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Mari (Pearl) isn't like the other people, in fact she doesn't remember how to be a functional person. She was raised in France by her adoptive mother, then she was distributed to a mental facility in Wisconsin. She was released when the doctors thought she could finally function. Mari moved into a small house in the woods, then she met her first husband Harold Winters. He was a kind man, good to all and loving to Mari, but something was right in Mari's head, which led to her killing small animals and planting them in her 'garden'. but each animal got bigger and soon the animals became her husbands. Since then, she was known as "Mari Tueur" which is the french tale for "Husband Killer".

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Mari was found dead next to the corpse of her eleventh 'husband', instead of burying her body, she was shipped to a scientific ward so people could investigate the mystery of Mari's particularly unfunctional brain. In the time of 2269, Mari's brain had been transplanted into another body so scientist could see how this particular brain functioned.

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It was the anterior cingulate cortex, the orbital frontal cortex, and the amygdala that held the answers to why Mari(Pearl) grew up in such an unfunctional way.
But before the truth could be uncovered, on October 5th 2301, WW3 had erupted destroying most of humanity, only some survived including Mari's sleeping body. 2311 was the time when Mari woke up in the empty scientific facility, unaware of the new wasted world out there.

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Stepping out of the facility, she was met with sand and dust, her head felt clouded but she still remembered her husbands. She set out to find people, and clothes, hiding who she was calling herself, "Pretty Pearl".

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Humans or any variation of people/angels, demons, fairies, etc.
Alien animals/regular animals.
Maybe backdrops
Robots or not humanoids
Small comic ideas
fanart
weird things

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Princess Maryiin was soon to become queen over the underground undead empire Routh-Sain. But she was not ready for such a task, uncultured, unwedded, no skill of leadership, she was the only child and was bound to fail. So, in order for her to succeed, they gave Maryiin a werewolf butler, Raven, who would also act as her tutor. But things go south when Maryiin falls in love with Raven

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At the Oddust Carnival, a group of freakshows run the old haunted place. A pair of female and male twins stitched together, a man whose faces change shape, a ghost, a vampire, and a mermaid. Together they must find ways to cope with the inability to leave.

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Handsome, effortless, yet average. He was a man of few words, but those words were what made you follow.
His brown hair was messy, his sideburns touched the corners of his jaw, his skin was pale, and his blue eyes were tired.
But by god he was a beautiful odd man. Ladies loved him, he would get a new girl every week, EVERY week. He had a charm about him, if he lacked in looks, he had the comedy, if he lacked the comedy, he had the looks.
He was, what the ladies thought, 'The right kind of ugly'.
That meaning had more to it than it's standardized definition.
The man, so beautiful and funny, had many names. One day he was Jacob, the next he was Harold, today, he was Skinner. He was a liar, he lied about his age, he lied about his family, he lied about everything.
Jacob said he came from Maine, a simple man with a steady job.
Harold said he came from London, a ladies man with a bank to spend.
But out of all his nicknames, Skinner was what scared me.
It had been thirty years since I last saw him at the bar in Mass. And when I saw him again, it was on the other side of a barrier.
I never saw Skinner ike this, nobody did. He was twitchy, quiet, serious. There was no charm, he wasn't how he was. He wasn't a human anymore.
He was a liar. A big fat, stupid, liar. At least, that's what we all thought.
"I don't have a name," Skinner told me, "I forgot my name back in Pennsylvania. So I made up my own list of names. Donald Harts, Nathan Jordan, Patrick Farawall, all of them were fake. The only name I didn't come up with, was Skinner," He used to live in Welling, Penn. A small off road town. I visited once or twice at his very cozy but cramped apartment.
Maybe I should've known when the people that lived around him started moving away dramatically.
But it never occurred. Even when the signs warned, "Beware! The Pennsylvania Skinner is here." Me and my friends just thought of it as nothing but a joke.
Skinner was a common name, but Skinner wasn't the common person.
"Mommy and daddy didn't love each other, not one bit. My mom left when I was young, and my dad brought home girls every week. I guess I lived in a state of wanting control because of it, some sort of identity. So I used to have an imaginary friend, Iden. Iden could shapeshift.
I liked Iden so much, that when I was homeschooled, stuck inside having no social clique or identity, I started taking on the personality of others." Skinner moved around a lot, had plenty of drivers license, forged papers, he was everyone. Yet he himself, was no one.
I asked Skinner why he did it, or even what he did, and he responded in a low and chilling voice.
"I wanted what the other kids had, an idea. They could come up with their own things, be their own thing. And who was I? I was the kid pretending to be them. So I started hunting for a new identity."
Skinner hunted all the cats around town, he killed all the cats. If your cat was an outdoor cat, prepare to never see it again. What he would do with those cats? He showed me.
He would take scissors, and cut. Cut all around the cat until he could make a mask. Skinner pretended to be those dead cats.
That was just his childhood.
"Then I moved on to people, It started with this man, Harold. We knew each other from a bar I went to. Good with the ladies, had money to spend. I liked his personality." All those nicknames he had, they weren't just nicknames, they were real people.
Skinner was a serial killer, he wasn't lying about who he was. He was pretending to be those people he killed and skinned.
He had no identity, not even a name. To cope, he became people. All those women were murdered, skinned. All his friends, were dead people.
"I liked it. I liked killing. I liked taking their names, their jobs, made me feel, nice."
he murdered around twenty-eight or thirty people.
He killed everyone I knew, skinned them, wore them, became them. He was everyone, yet no one.
The Pennsylvania killer is here.
"I finally became someone, when I became everyone else,"
And then he leaned in and smiled at me, a happy, loving, creepy, smile. His neck looked crooked, and his eyes were black, "I am Iden." then the lights went out.