[epimetheus]

oooh res mayb :V

[❌ DYNAMIGHT ❌]

//screeches
RESERVE!!
<3

*he was exploring a house and slipped on some spilled ink, which is actually how he found his shadow as well*

[growl.lingo]

Username:
Twelfth
Doll Name:
Shadow Name:
How did the doll lose his arm?:

Oh my oh my what a cutie. I'll totally fill out this forum when I have the time <3

[~:Saddles&Bridles:~]

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Username • ~:Saddles&Bridles:~

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Full Name • Jack Cody Oakwood
Name • Jack
Gender • Male
Birthday • July 4th
Birthstone • Ruby
Starsign • Cancer
Sexuality • Bisexual
Occupation • Unemployed

[Red weasel]

Username:Red weasel
Doll Name: Nico
Sexuality: Bisexual
Personality: Nico is wise, or more, street smart. He is very scarcastic at times, but yet, still very kind. Everyone is his equal, and he likes to help people, if he can. He's is layed back, and very hard to anger. He's a smooth talker, and a smooth dresser. He usually appears happy, though this may not always reflect his inner feelings. He's tries his best to preform the emotions that others need. He's quite the flatterer,such to the point where, even when he's not trying to, he's comes off as being a flirt. He's friendly, but not out going. He's not the type to be friends with everyone, just those that hold his intrest. Nico loves music, hoping to someday learn to play a few instruments, and really any art form. He mainly enjoys writing, and sometimes carries a journal around with him. If he's not writing in his journal, he's drawing in it. He enjoys anything in the way of self expression, and does as much as he can to express himself. Nico considers himself a caretaker, as he is willing to help and comfort anyone and everyone. For him, squib is like his little buddy, and anyone who's says anything bad about him, that person will become Nicos Enemy. Nico was once part of artistic duo sort of project that involved painting and writing, but his partner dipped out on him to work with someone else, and Nico eventually gave up the project.
Shadow Name:Squib
Personality: squib can be best described as a puppy. He's a sweetheart who loves attention, and love nearly anyone. He is, of course,attached to Nico, and it's clear that Nico is his favorite person and he is very loyal to him. Squib connected to Nico trough his love of art. Squib is imagintive, and loves trying to create cool and unique things. Squib has no voice, and instead uses his ink to express himself. This includes spelling out words, or making pictures with his ink. He likes to be picked up, which, luckily, Nico loves to do. Squib will often try to reveal Nico real mood with is tatto art. Squib also has a habbit of using his surroundings to inspire him. Squib loves when Nico gets compliments on his tatto.
How did the doll lose his arm?: Nico had only just joined forces with Quib, when the incedent occurred. He was walking, with his squishy friend traveling next to him. He was exploreing this new place, what was it again, oh, the dollhouse. He hadn't really met anyone here yet, and wasn't quit use to the way this place worked. He had found his shadow by tripping over him, and he was amazed by his new friend. Nico wasn't at all bothered by the slow pace he had to to travel at for Squib to move freely, he was just enjoying the exploration of the many doors in the dollhouse. He was in no hurry to explore it all, the slow pace actually helped him take in more of the differnt atmospheres.
Things were going fairly smooth, until squib ran over something. Nico bent down to look at what the object could have been, and found it was looked like a woman's change purse. He didn't open it, but decided he should carry it around to see if he could find its owner. Squib decided it would be best to travel with Nico, and promptly phased onto his left arm to from a simple tattoo. Nico poked the pursed, he refused to open it. He continued walking though the are he was in. All was can until a man ran up to him, for where he did not see. The man grabbed the change purse, which was now in Nicos left hand, yelling at him in a language he didn't understand. The man tugged at the purse now grabbing Nicos arm and pulling as Nico tried to calm him down. The man yanked so hard that he poped Nicos lower arm out of its joint. The man then rsn away, taking the arm with him. Nico panicked, not from the lost arm, but from the fact that Squib was on that arm. Squib quickly dropped off, and Nico ran over to check and make sure his friend was okay. Squib was fine, and Nico was left wondering if the man thought he stole the arm, or what could have cause that man to act that way.

Nico has never cared enough to get his arm fixed, and he never will, after all, it is a conversation starter.

Theme songs:
Nico-
Imagine Dragons- Nothing Left to say
Imagine Dragons- Amesterdam
Meg and Dia- Agree to Disagree
Squib-Panic at the Disco- That Green gentleman
Oliver and Company- You and Me

[Bleating Ram]

Username: Bleating Ram
Doll Name: Ātisuto (Atis, Suto)
Shadow Name: Tato~ūinku (Inku, Tato)
How did the doll lose his arm?: Suto lost his arm in a freak accident, nothing of his own fault really. Well, okay maybe it kind of is since he wanted to prove that he was right and the other person was wrong. He had wanted to prove that he could withstand a real tattoo needle. Well, you can imagine how that went. It started out great, nothing seemed to be going wrong. Until the needle got closer to the joint, and the movement caused his arm to pop off. It was never supposed to happen really, he had been reassured of that. But of course, you can't always be right. And so he never got a replacement, because now it's a reminder that he can be a know it all, but he should probably keep it in check before he loses something more precious to him then his arm.

[coffees]

x

[sapiosexual]

oh no oh god hes soc ute res

[nmrn]

Username: Isolationism

Doll Name: My name is Cecil Vernon.
Just call me Cecil.

Shadow Name: My trusty amigo is called Poe.
He is my best friend. He's been through a lot
with me, and I really owe him, even though
he's basically just a blob.








How did the doll lose his arm?:
It all started with one girl. Who she was, I won't say, but she was the love of my life. She never took me seriously, but when she did, it'd often be thrown back in my face. It isn't a surprise for a person with such a sense of humor as what she had, but it was over the top, and just deflated my ego entirely, and in turn boosted hers to absolute maximum. Even though we didn't take much seriously, it was almost impossible to get her away to talk seriously to her about anything without her making a joke-fest about it and laughing at you, straight in your face. In short, she was a massive b-

...but I loved her. She was my heart and soul, and everything I did I did for her. Or, not really, but it felt like that. She was the absolute love of my life, and she meant everything to me. I loved listening to her speak, and her adorable, light, chirpy voice. Talking to her felt amazing, and we had an awesome connection. We just... knew each other. It was amazing. We were so close and an amazing pair of friends. You would've thought we were together, but there's no way she loved someone like me. I was young, cocky, thought I knew everything, hell.. I thought I was amazing, but she just completed me. I grew over that, though. I'm not amazing. I am flawed. I'll never see her again. I still have Poe though.

...Anyway. It was February the 13th. The day before Valentines. You can already tell that this is going to go badly, right? Well it's just as you'd expect.






9:43am

The door swung open and slammed against the wall as Cecil strode in, collapsing onto the small, pastel sofa that was placed neatly in the centre of the room, facing a small television that was dribbling white noise. Except for the television, there were no sounds except the odd chattering, which was fairly distant. Cecil glared towards the piece of stuttering, monochromatic technology in front of him, then grabbed the delicate remote and threw it straight at the screen.

He sighed, frustrated, and after a minute of grumbling and groaning to himself silently, he broke down. It was the day before Valentine's, which should be exciting, right? Problem was, he had no idea what he wanted to get for his crush. He had known this particular lady for a long time, and adored her. Occasionally they would seem like a married couple, fussing each other one minute and arguing the next. Honestly, they were the best of friends. Cecil didn't dare to tell anyone how much he truly loved her, and that this level of affection went way beyond friends for him.








12:03pm

Most of the morning that should have been spent looking for something romantic was spent in bed. He couldn't think. He didn't want to be alive. His mind was tortured by the exhaustion, lack of time, lack of motivation... He was sick of feeling this way over 'some stupid crush'. In the meanwhile, his shadow had him surrounded, plastering him in different patterns on both arms to try and cheer him up. Although it didn't work, it gave Cecil an idea.
'I know, I can just get her some tattoos... she'll like that, right?', he thought to himself, scratching his neck and chin. Should he? Maybe. How would he tattoo her? With all of these questions springing up with his realisation, he decided to nap on it.

'4:16. PM. I should probably stop lounging..' he sighed, murmuring to his shadow senselessly. Rocking back and forth for some minutes in deep thought, he finally got up, manoeuvring out of the house casually, trying to leave everything as neatly as it was before he entered aggressively much earlier in the day. He wouldn't usually come so far away from the dollhouse unless he wanted to write, draw, or be alone, but this time it was different. He had the perfect idea for his love, and she would swoon for it and then he could take her in his arms, kiss and love her, tell her how gorgeous she was... He was too obsessed. Realistically, he had absolutely no idea where he was going, and knew that it would take him a long time to find what he wanted.








8:54pm

It was nearly 9pm, and he figured he probably shouldn't be out for this long. However, he aimlessly continued to jog about, getting further and further from his home. Eventually, he found it. The local tattoo parlour. They HAD to have an ink pen. Finding a way in through the vents, he took the smallest one he could find, and scrambled back out and slumped back to the neighbouring house, in which his love was living. By the time he got back it was nearly 11pm, so she couldn't be awake, right? He did want it to be a surprise, after all. He sneaked into the house, snaking around the furniture and vulnerable-looking areas of the floor, making his way up to her bedroom. Success! She was indeed sleeping. He held up the pen, trying to urge his shadow to equalise the weight of it with the force Cecil had to use to carry it, then he began to lower it carefully. Pressing the nib against her chest gently, nothing happened but a small droplet of ink which had seeped out onto the female's collarbone area. Sighing, he tried to press harder, pressing it against her until...

Crack.

Sh*t.

Her entire chest cracked, creating a pale stained-glass-window of the same pastel pink color of her skin. Cecil stopped and panicked, tears welling up in his eyes immediately. He ruined her. He had no idea what to do, and shoved the pen away, trying to run out of the house as quickly as she could while she, also shocked and terrified, tried to regain her breath to get up. Cecil sprinted back to his own home, shutting himself away in one of the empty rooms, crying and gagging with terror as he trembled violently, sinking into a ball on the floor.








4:39am

Cecil had been sat up crying in this same corner for nearly 7 hours.
'How can someone sit up crying this long over a girl? She isn't going to love you now, you idiot. You should just throw yourself in the trash, instead, so that she never has to deal with you again.' he mumbled to himself, among other things. He sank even closer to the floor, ashamed of what he had done. All for one stupid Valentines? What an idiot. Composing himself, he got up, clambering out of the house and vanishing.








11am

The girl was still in her house, trying to put on some tight-fitting clothes; she was also devastated about what had happened, and this was evident in her expression. Though she was still beautiful, her torso, to her, was just limp. She had no idea what to do. Suddenly, a knock at the door was heard. She tensely wandered over to answer, opening it a few inches. Outside was Cecil, but he was very different. He held in his left hand his right forearm, with a box of chocolates and an apology note attached. Worriedly he shoved his arm carefully in her face, urging her to take it but being too scared of her to speak. Before she could answer back after holding onto his arm, now even more horrified, he had ran again. Hiding away, he kept his distance. Some years passed and he was mostly secluded to his own space with himself and his shadow Poe, and after a long time, he started to get over it, almost forgetting about the girl and his arm. He more or less treated it as an accident that happened when he fell and got attacked by a dog.



Nowadays, Cecil is a lot more laid back and keeps to himself. He carries a cocky smile, winks for the ladies, and his intricate-looking tattoos by Poe on his left arm. He has a confident, large stride, and outwardly presents himself as a cocksure devil who adores himself. While this is still a reflection of his personality, it isn't all true. He has confidence issues that have risen since losing his arm, but he tries to get along with it.

In his spare time, he loves to write novels and poems, and has a hard time with keeping motivated. About his bedroom are hundreds of pieces of paper with notes, plots, even the starts of stories jotted down and abandoned. He lives a lifestyle of disorder and disorganisation, though he strives for cleanliness. However, the more creative side of him shows through easily. His bedroom walls are covered in tattoos and drawings, a lot of them being mythical beasts and delicate lace patterns. Even though Cecil walks around with a smirk and flirts with everyone he looks at, he is intelligent and reserved, and can be especially protective of Poe or his other close friends. His biggest traits are his honesty and creativity, although he gets demotivated quickly. Like any artist, art blocks and depression is a common thing, though his ego and cocksure attitude enables him to persevere with his talent.

[Adallina]

B̧̧̻̫̯̬̫͉̳̉̆͑̄̅̉̆͒̈́͘͜l̢̮̺͇͓͕̥̖̠̖̇͌̈́͒́͂̈́̔̂͝a̡͓̪̼͈̭͖͕̹̭͆͆̈͒̆̎̐̄͋̑ç̛̛͚̗̗̬̹̟͔̟̦͒͛́̽̍̊̿̿k̘̫̦͔͇̞͕̱̖̼̽́͂̒́̋̈́̒̂͑ ̥̫͚̼̦̼̭͓͓̹̽̆̿̒̄̈̉̅͆̚W̢̯̻͎͈͍̮͔̟͎̍̓͛́̇̑͆̄́̃o̢̦͖̰͔̪͓͙͉̮̾͐̆̈́̎́̏̽̈̄l̡̛̜͍̮͓̜͖̦̞͒͗̑̈́͋̈̚͠͝ͅf̧̧̡͇̱̺̯̟̱̋̍̇̽̌̓̂̈͘͘ͅ




Username:
Hello falling city, I'm Adalgisa, nice to meet you c:
As soon as I saw this dashing rogue I instantly had an idea for what his character would be like. I didn't get to write quite as much as I wished to for lack of time on my part but I can say that if I did by chance win this know-it-all and his goopy little sidekick I would certainly be an active owner on the fan club and draw them.

Doll Name:
This doll's chosen name is Sir Blaine, "Sir" being his actual first name, not a prefix of respect, although he feels a certain degree of superiority whenever anyone calls him thus. Most people refer to him by his last name because of this arrogant quality of his. I mentioned that this was his "chosen" name because no one actually knows his original name as a non-living doll. Perhaps once he has a special someone he'll illuminate them...

Shadow Name:
A whirlwind of spattering ink, this affectionate shadow's name is Chaos.

A Bit About Blaine:
Blaine is the Doll House's top tier forger and art theft. He has only the creme de la creme of clientele and not the most savory characters as bosses. They don't take very kindly to failure. Failure comes with a price, the price of your head, but for Blaine that wasn't quite the case. As usual, he has the winning card, the home-field advantage. As the only forger living in the Doll House at present he's valuable, and he most certainly owns that quality of character. He likes to both be able to blend in among a crowd and yet stand out, but not quite enough to be remembered. He is the wolf among the docile sheep, searching for his next meal.

How Did Blaine Lose His Arm?:[url][/url]
Blaine's converse beat against the damp pavement like the ticking of an off-beat clock, counting down to his doom. He was really in for it this time, there would be no third chances. Chaos whined up at him from his pumping arm as his breath rasped from between parched lips. The black, wriggling mass didn't like it when they ran as it jogged Blaine's arm, often causing Chaos to fall. Even through his haze of desperate panic, Blaine took a second to smile down at the slightly pathetic looking lump and ruffled his spattering head affectionately. Still keeping a steady pace against the lightly falling rain, Blaine lifted Chaos off of his arm to cradle him against his chest with both hands. Chaos was the only one who could ever see this side of him, the side capable of compassion, remorse. That wasn't to say that he was anywhere near a nice guy, just not quite as heartless as he seemed. But this world wasn't a place for nice guys, not his Doll House. He smiled ruefully at the thought. The place that he now called home had always been good to him, but good things always called for payment, and payment was usually painful, and in uncomfortable places. Grimacing, he flexed the three remaining fingers of his right hand, a reminder of what would happen if he ever failed again... like he had today. Urging his body to move faster he mentally scouted the way ahead, a daily exercise as the Doll House was always shifting and creating, as if it had a conscience. Luckily for him, he had an In on the Doll House, his little gloppy Chaos. His life was always better when he threw in a little Chaos. He emitted a slight, wheezing chuckle at his double entendre and slipped Chaos back onto his left arm.
"Alright pip-squeak," he panted, "get me out of here if you please..." Chaos' swirling white designs twined together until a street map of the Doll House was clearly visible in thin white lines with a little red dot showing their progress through the streets. Unfortunately, upon second glance, Blaine saw two green dots in pursuit of them which he knew would be under strict orders to subdue him. He glanced up from his arm to see a wall that hadn't been there before appear before him, blocking his escape. He struggled to breathe. He was trap--

◊ ☣ ◊ ☣ ◊

Blaine blinked groggily. He wanted to look around, but his eyes didn't seem to want to cooperate, they kept lolling to the sides as if they had a mind of their own. Through hazy thought he struggled to recall where he was. As he regained his thoughts he became aware of a strange sensation in his right arm. It wasn't painful exactly, more like a dull ache, the memory of pain. Glancing down he saw that his arm had been removed at the ball joint. Wincing at having been caught he looked up into the face of his captor and felt his eyes widen in disbelief as his mind reeled. This was going to be no picnic...

Why Not Get A New Arm?
You might be wondering why, as a doll with removable limbs, Blaine doesn't search out another arm for himself. His blasé answer to that question would be a disgruntled "Why would I do that? I already have a perfectly good arm, I'm just not quite sure where it is at the moment." A peacock in his own right, Blaine isn't one for hand-me-downs and finds the thought of wearing anyone else's discarded arm to be an embarrassment. He takes the utmost care of his belongings, most significantly, his shadow Chaos. If you look closely, you can see that every pair of his clothes is impeccably ironed and tailored and that, although they may look identical, he wears a new set of attire every day. For fear of being tracked by his scent he routinely burns all of his clothes after wearing them. This is why he is so attached to the things that he can keep such as his head, his tongue piercings, and his Chaos.

Art:
The Chase, by me
(This is after his arm removal)

W̨̛̳̗̝͎̮̩̣̺̪̄̿́̎̾̆̈͘̚h̩̟̬̪̪̹͔̤̹̱̀̇͒̃̌̈́̍̓̈́̚i̧̨̛͍͔̝̟̦͚̱͌͑̐́͐̓̊͘͜͝t̪̦͚̰͍̺̺͉̆͗͗̔̽͛̄̂̾͋͜ͅę̮͕͓̪͍̠̼̞͖̈́͒͆͂̏͑͒͐̐̆ ̡̯̟̣̼̠̦̰̰̝̓̒̈́͊̈̔̀͐͘̚S̛̜̬͍̹̪̹͔̺̉̂̓̅̽͒͆͗͜͜͝ḩ̛̤͈͖̜̖͈̪̻͒̂́͑̓̀̅͜͠͝ę̘̣̬̥̩͚̲̖̻̾̍̈́͊͒́͊͛̌͐e͍͙͚̳̰̥̦͕̱̥̽̎̏͌̃̿͑̌̄̚p̧͖̪̯̲͔̟̫̖͋̆̿̎̂̈͛͋͠͝ͅ

The best of luck to everyone, there are so many amazing forms out there!