Back at it again with the my brain full of the ghost doll au this time is Ashe's turn
Stitch. Pull. Stitch. Pull.
Over and over again. The rotary motion of sewing was tiring and near sickening. Every new stitch left this lingering pain she couldn't quite describe.
The Trickster bites the thread tying it off as they hold the doll up, a grin spreads across their face as they acknowledge the new patch they've made. Several different fabrics make up the doll, different colors, different textures, but none of the patches seem to be their own.
"There you do go dear all fixed! I think that Kathy girls blue looks wonderful on you! What do you think?.."
Ashe frowned, they hated it. Absolutely hated it, it felt like skin that wasn't theirs or clothing that was the wrong texture. It left them sick to their stomach, but the look on the Tricksters face urged them to say something positive, and if they hadn't gone through this before and they didn't know the consequences they would never say anything positive about it.
But they knew if the Trickster didn't get the answer they wanted it's more than likely they'll start over again, or maybe they'll keep their arms for a week or their legs even longer.
"Yeah- yeah.. it's a lovely blue"
"Where's the enthusiasm Ashe! I just fixed you, that horrible gash down your side would still be there if I didn't patch it up!"
They were right. Ashe had gotten snagged on some thorns, though really they don't remember it. They feel bad, the poor girl thought she was helping them..
The Trickster looks the doll over making sure the stitching and patch applying they've done is secure but pullable, just enough to keep the stuffing in.
"You know the rules you're free in the work shop and living room, and for your acting today I'll get you in a cookie! It's been so long since I've fed you anything, hasn't it! "
The Trickster sets the doll down looking in ashes direction with a smile. They gestures around the workshop staring at the doll with a nod.
"At least you don't complain about being hungry, you hardly complained about me stitching you back this time! I should get you some wings, you are an angel after all!"
The Trickster left leaving the door open a crack. Cautiously Ashe picked up their doll, turning it over in their hands and observing it. So many pieces that didn't belong to them. It wasn't comfortable but the Trickster would do worse if then removed them.
The first time they ever did the trickster just about threw them in a wood chipper. So much begging was needed to convince them not to, even then the Trickster insisted on something, he took their left arm that day and sewed their shoulder shut. Their arm still never feels like it's been sewn on correctly.
Ashe glanced towards the door, moving the doll to a shelf , at the very least it looks like they've moved. So the Trickster won't be upset with them. Soon enough the trickster is back holding felt in their hands as well as a plate of cookies, Ashe can't tell if they're store bought or not.
"Ashe, come back to the desk."
Ashe looks over picking up her doll and making her way over as the Trickster makes a deliberate effort to look away. The Trickster gestures to the plate smiling. Ashe knows what they want, they want to see the cookie disappear into nothing as she eats it. The Trickster looks away and Ashe reaches for a cookie, the first time in a while they think.
But they take a bite, and the Trickster looks back, this giddy expression on their face as a portion of the cookie is simply gone , and the cookie floats mid air. They then look away focusing on the felt in front of them and cutting out a cute yet flimsy pair of wings.
Little guy au Dakota bits and pieces because I've been working on this for way too long and it's nowhere close to being done. Featuring Kasper for lore purposes
Anyways here Cleaner angst , Tw's for gore , death and violence
Cold, it was always just a bit too cold in David's office. Cleaner didn't know how David could stand to be in short sleeves, working in the room as if the cold wasn't trying to bite him. Cautiously he looked up to David, tired sunken eyes meeting with David's equally tired but firm gaze.
Cleaner goes to speak but hesitates, David hates it when he hesitates. He can feel David's gaze sharpen, as he takes a breath. "David? Can.. Can we let it go?" Of course he was talking about the twenty foot long creature down in the basement labs, one of the creatures that was the closest thing he could come close to considering a friend.
"Cleaner." David seemed to hiss out the name with disappointment or something similar. Has it been that long since he's politely asked David to call him the name Crisis offered? "That's a shit idea. It could kill you. You don't know what it does or what it's capable of!"
But Cleaner does, he does know what it's capable of. It's capable of kindness, just as much as it's capable of injury, though he's pretty sure it only happened because it was hungry and scared. It hasn't seemed hostile since he started sharing his lunch with it. "David-" Cleaner paused considering his words, he knows David tended to be fickle and finite with his words. Tugging his sleeves down and hugging his arms closer to himself to try and alleviate the cold chill he spoke up again "- can we just give it space to roam at least? The containment room we keep it in is cramped, they won't cooperate if we can't meet their needs. Or maybe we could let them go?"
David glares, setting his pen down and sighing "I'll work something out. Just- go. Take care of it for the night and then go to bed yourself, okay?"
Being dismissed from the room Cleaner quickly moved to leave, David would probably come get him after his shift was over and all of his paperwork was done so they could go home. He stopped by the storage closet, grabbing his cart of things , cleaning supplies, mop water , tools and more importantly lunch for everyone. Dragging the cart to the elevator he smiled humming. Entering the elevator he cautiously pulled out his phone smiling at the lock screen picture of himself, Crisis, and Stray. A cherished memory along with the several pictures he'd asked Crisis to take of him and the several other critters here.
Pocketing his phone and Leaving the elevator he pushes the cart in front of him , starting the tedious process of cleaning up behind his brother. Blood stains litter the floor along with various other liquids, furs, and scales. Though that's easy cleaning, he's used to this and he can take it section by section with a total of eight making up the whole area.
Starting and working thoroughly he sweeps, mops, scrubs every bit of repetitive motion feeling ljekan good thing. About two sections in he hears a familiar gurgled groan. So he stops, pulling off a pair of larger yellow gloves and reaching under that cart for a bagged sandwich , he checks for a moment nodding as he confirms it was one of the bigger ones. Carefully he opens the door to the containment room.
"Alan? I brought food?" He calls out into the space, holding out the sandwich. There's an audible splash and thud as he looks to see the surprisingly amphibious eight foot tall rock creature(?)(He's still not sure what exactly Alan is.). Alan observes him taking the sandwich but not before drenching Cleaner in water then allowing him to leave. He smiled to himself. "Thank you Alan, I'll see you tomorrow !"
He calls out, sighing as he continues cleaning until he gets to Cantrips section. Once again he forgoes his cleaning attire once again, reaching for another sandwich. Opening Cantrips containment cell he frowns, it's cold, it's not meant to be cold. "Cantrip?" He calls out entering the room further "Cantrip?" Something doesn't feel right, something's wrong. He hesitates, she's never allowed him further than the light of the door, but she's usually at least semi social with him. Setting the sandwich down, he pulls out his phone turning on the flashlight.
He pauses, looking at her, this larger almost tiger sized fox creature, alien to him before but a friend recently. The bright purple flames he's used to now graying and cold like ash, she looks tired, far too tired. So he pockets his phone again and picks up the sandwich, opens the bag and sets it beside her, he hopes she turns out okay.
Closing the door with a quiet good night he continues to do his job until he stops at Xavier's enclosure. The quiet repetition of the task; Cleaning, stopping at each new section, pulling off his gloves grabbing the food and making his way in the enclosure was nice.
Pausing just inside he called out to Xavier's not seeing him immediately had him a little worried especially with the state Cantrip was in. Xavier's in room was cold. Not that stabbing cold that David's Office had, but it was enough to make him pull his jacket closed a little tighter.
In a rather sudden motion he's pulled upward from where he was standing with a yelp, looking up to see Xavier this odd four armed scaled bat creature he waved, Xavier was one of the few he'd gotten to speak , he's not the best at it but it's conversation none the less. This hissed laugh left Xavier as he set Cleaner down the same kind of hissed lips following as he spoke."Surprise!"
Cleaner smiled glancing down at the ground then back up to Xavier. "Hi, can you put me down so I can give you lunch ? I'll be back after I finish okay!"
Xavier nods and cautiously he drops from the ceiling of the room setting Cleaner on the ground holding his hands out for the gift of food. Which Cleaner easily hands over. Xavier grins looking at him with a smile, then a brief frown "Summers gone, labs took 'er "
Cleaner frowns and nods "Thanks Xavier, like I said I'll be back later okay?" With that he leaves moving to continue his cleaning. He briefly stops at Summers enclosure simply to check and leave her lunch there. He hoped to see her back here tomorrow but he leaves the sandwich there for her.
Moving further he gets to Stray's enclosure same story, though with Stray he actually makes quiet conversation and sits eating is own lunch there. Deciding not to stay all too long as he did promise Xavier he'd come back, not to mention he also wanted to check on Summer and Cantrip. He backed out of the enclosure slowly through as he reached the door Stray stood, growling and stalking forward.
"Stray.. hey, what did I do? Are you still hungry?" He frowns, it's been a while since Strays growled at him like this. He doesn't know why they're angry, or upset with him , they're usually communicative and if they kept approaching he'd be with his back to the door in a couple seconds.
It almost feels like things happened too quickly, something cold against the back of their head, a click, the brief sight of Stray going to lunge, and an awful ringing noise in their ears before it all faded out. And suddenly hes in David's medical office with a splitting headache and rigging in his ears.
He cups his hands over his ears and presses trying desperately to get rid of the tinnitus as he blinks away tears. David sits in front of him covered blood and mild gore staining his work clothes, a diagonal clawing that doesn't look like it reaches too deep.
David waits till the ringing stops or at least until Cleaner can acknowledge him. "You okay?" He starts tilting his head and looking over Cleaner who gives him a thumbs up. "The new one-"
"Stray.. their name is Stray"
David makes an audibly annoyed sigh before picking back up. "- Stray, attacked you , you died. It almost didn't let me pull you out." He gestures to his own injuries. " This is why we can't let them out and why they're in the spaces they're in, so you need to stop getting friendly with them. You're not their friend, you are an enemy or prey to them."
Cleaner frowned, he was sure he was getting better with Stray, but he couldn't quite place it outside of the fact she thing was wrong, he had something he wanted to do didn't he? Maybe he'd figure it out by tomorrow he should go home and actually rest .
Ghost doll au again because I'm loosing my mind /pos
Uhhh so- this got darker than I thought and I'm not sure what to tag it with other than horrible HORRIBLE manipulation. So have this blurb that I made for. Read with caution and have fun I suppose !
A hand holds the doll tight, the poor thing is dropping stitching as a seam tears. The feeling of dread and fear lingers as William screams upon death ears begging to be let go. The man holds it turning the doll over in his hands , with careful nature he pulls stuffing from the opening. The doll feels lighter, and the weight on his chest has lessened.
"Are you willing to cooperate now, William?"
He doesn't get a feeling of agreements but he gets a begging, pleading even as he sets the doll down. The begging feeling quickly severed.
"Now, you move and I come hunting you down again."
He doesn't wait for anything as he turns around, allowing William to move his doll freely, he clambers for the stuffing carefully returning it and moving the doll just to the other side of the table.
William didn't know what to do, This wasn't the first time he's been hunted down, but people usually give up after two or three tries, this is the seventh, and he knows this person, they know his regular spots, and the people he used to know. He doesn't know where to go.
Whatever David asks he knows he has to do. David used to be nice, used to be his brother. He doesn't know what happened or why he's like this now. But it's terrifying. He goes to move the doll again but stops in his tracks, David is looking at him again and he knows William wants out.
"Listen William, all you have to do is help me like a good little brother, and I'll fix you up."
David sets a paper down in front of the doll sitting in the chair across from it and averting his gaze.
"you're going to be the greatest paranormal discovery William, especially after I get you back. Imagine; Boy turned doll, and back to boy again! You'd be alive again and you'd practically be famous, do you know how many people in Deadwood would kill to know this!"
"..."
"So many William, so many. And I don't care how many times I have to tear the doll apart, I'll put you back together with the same love and care every time!"
William didn't want this, but he wouldn't get anywhere until he signed, David knew the rules of what he could do and leaving at this point would be a death wish too many people out on the streets there's no way he's getting somewhere else before David grabs the doll.
Alright starting this off with a mild Gore warning, derealization warning, dehumanizing
It's Ghost doll au and it's Patchwork so those themes usually end up really consistent , the drabble is below the cut. Please read at your own caution!
Dark. Why had it all gone dark? She hated the dark. The dark felt cramped, suffocating and empty. Worst of all it made her think of that god awful night of running through the words. Trying to flee something that was simply toying with her.
Pulled from her thoughts by the sound of something loud she curled her wings around herself looking around in the dark. She hated this, she hated not knowing what was around her, what was making sounds, what was out to get her. She tugged at her jacket, her fingers feeling stiff and the stitches along her body aching.
She wanted to back into a corner, hide away where no one could find her again, she wanted the she to go away, for the light to come back, and for the noise to stop. She wishes she had her headphones or maybe that she'd never ran away in the first place. She should've listened to her father when he said she'd get killed out there.
Patchwork curled up more, doing her best to push past the strain and discomfort of the stitches feeling taught as what she thinks is the sound of thunder claps again. She can feel her throat tighten and her breathing starts to feel more like a chore than an idle passive.
A hand presses itself into her back. Is it hers or the dolls? She's not really sure. Regardless it tugs and the stitches burn and she swears she feels blood dripping down her back. She hasn't bleed in years, but it feels so real, so familiar, so awful.
Another hand finds itself at the base of her wings, and for a moment she feels far too aware of them, far too aware of the stitching that keeps them attached, and how fragile they are. “Wait, Wait!—” A scream tears itself from her throat before she could finish getting the words out. Her wings tear, almost too smoothly as if they weren't even apart of her skin.
For a moment the pain lingers the feeling of warm blood starting to streak down her back. She wants to move, but a far too familiar voice catches her attention.
“Oh dear. That's just an accident, you know I can get you a new pair right. Maybe I'll use a different fabric. Gray and black are becoming far too dull don't you think Patches? Though I suppose it is fitting Ashe gray is an iconic color for you. I wonder if I have any of yours left over.” It giggles, at its own honey laced words pulling open a drawer.
“Let's See,” The silence as they search is deafening; she knows she can't move. It feels like their entire body weight is pressed up against them.”Patches, my dear don't think I have much of yours left. We should save that for something more permanent.” They continue on rifling through scraps of fabrics comparing them to wing that's still attached.
“I don't-” Patchwork's words die in her mouth as she feels several stitches snap with ease. It hurts, like reopening an old wound that's never quite fully healed. She hates that she can't see them. That the dark hasn't gone away
“What was that?” As if to emphasize just how threatening the Trickster was, the sound of thunder echoed throughout the shack. “I don't believe I asked for an opinion, nor did I ask for a suggestion. “
“Nothing, it was nothing I'm sorry..” Patchwork quickly rambles out, as she braces for another tear or rip. But it never comes, she feels another hand on her back softer far kinder than hands she's used to, half wrapped around her as the sound of thunder shakes the room.
She realizes her eyes are shut tightly as she opens them to a dark room, tears are running down her face and the muffled sound of rain pelts the outside of the house. Her hands are pressed tightly against her ears. Her wings feel numb and she's struggling to breathe, the touch on her back shifts and she pulls away, pressinger herself as deeply into the corner as she can, tucking her knees as close to her chest as she can get them.
A sob leaves Patchwork as she shuts her eyes again, pressing her hands harder against her ears, unable to compose herself as thunder sounds again. She knows it's pathetic, but she feels vulnerable, not at her worst but getting there. Her wings aren't moving like she wants them to; they won't tuck around her to form that protective barrier she's grown so used to. “I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry-” Her quiet rambled apologies spill from her lips.
And for a moment there is silence, the hand on her back cautious before it shifts, pulling her closer into another weight. “Hey, It's okay… you don't have to apologize. Patchwork, you're okay I promise.. I'll never let anything hurt you again.” The voice is familiar, familiar in the best way, comforting, warm and caring.
That's right, she's with Wild, in a cottage belonging to a woman named Lightspeed. A woman who hasn't been back for a few days. Patchwork truly hardly knows her, but the way Wild speaks of her makes her sound so kind. He says she fixed him and was mindful only doing what she needed to dry and repair him. She also lets him eat of hisbown volition and the food is supposedly good.
Thunder shakes her from her thoughts again causing her to choke on her breath, releasing her own arms and turning and hugging onto Wild. Who's careful as he helps her stand.
“It's okay. I'll walk you through it again. You're safe now, you're with me at Lightspeeds house, there's a rainstorm or is it a thunderstorm? Whatever, there's one of those happening outside and the power went down. It's just me and you here I promise. Maybe she has some candles, but I know I can make some hot chocolate if that helps, do you still like that, with the marshmallows and everything?”
She didn't get it. How could he be so casual when she looked absolutely pathetic. How was he not put off? How could he still care for her like she's the same as when they last saw each other, like nothing's changed, like she hasn't been stripped of just about every piece of fabric that originally made her herself. She was never terrified of thunder and the dark before, sure it made her jump but that was only natural, now she's sitting here sobbing over it.
Wild frowns watching at patchwork seems to grow distant again, as he pulls her to sit on the couch. He hesitates for a moment pulling his hands away as he goes to grab a blanket, and searching for a candle or two, which he finds and sets in the coffee table. Carefully he wraps the blanket around her “Hey Patch, I'll be right back. I promise, I'm gonna make you some hot chocolate the way you like it. It'll be okay I promise I won't go anywhere.”
Hiiii! I'm Xornoth or fruit! I do art, write, and I'm in way too many fandoms to count, feel free to ask me abut any and all of them! I play DND (mostly as a DM but y'know I'm always excited to be here) I'm also the owner of the Feral little guys TSAMS au and the PD little guys any art and ask will always be appreciated!
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Ghost doll au thoughts plague me, so woe angst upon you all
It's Dakotas turn :)
It hurts, it hurts so much... The pulling of stitches, the lack of stuffing, the fact he's sitting empty on a table. She's careful, so so careful yet it feels like he's going stabbed , and his insides are being pulled out. He knows she means well, truly she does.
Dakota's soaking wet and the stuffing still never dry if it's left to sit inside him , and he thinks that would be physically worse. Having his insides being over taken by mold and becoming a feeding ground for bugs.
Dakota stifles a scream as she pulls stuffing, he's fairly sure used to make up his entrails. Sitting in the chair across from the nicest woman he's ever met , he lays his head against the table with his hand over his stomach. He looks up at her , tears on his face though he knows she can't see them.
"Miss, can you wait for a second-"
He hates the way his voice cracks and the woman looks around in concern. Before settling down on the doll. Gently she sets it down nodding as she lays the stuffing she'd pulled out on a paper towel.
"You can call me Lightspeed by the way, it's my hero name but it should work. Are you okay?"
Dakota almost responds immediately his head not quite clear enough to think with the lingering pain. He reminds himself she's not holding the doll, and pushes it towards her. Picking the doll up Lightspeed hums in confusion.
"Gotta hold it to hear me.. I'm okay, my name's Dakota.."
Lightspeed smiles as she looks down at the doll, it's heavy in her hands and not just with the feeling Dakota shares with her . She's careful as reaches her hands in, being sure not to open the hole she's made any further.
"y'know Dakota, you're the first Doll I've ever talked to, did you know you had a music box?"
Ah, so that's what happened to his heart. She holds it so gentle enough taking the caution to dry it out and wind it up for him. It's such a careful item despite that it plays a steady melody.
"I didn't know that, I'm good now, you can finish, I promise I'll help you as much as I can. "
"you don't have to do anything, you looked sad out there in the forest, so I'll help you."
With Dakota's go ahead she continued to remove stuffing and laying it out to dry, all the whole Dakota attempted to keep conversation despite the strain on his voice. The steady melody of his music is box heart keeping the room filled with a healthy noise .
