[dr. pupper]

couldnt think of a cool name to put in the title..... sorry
Im really happy dollhouse is back and i hope to make a lot more very soon!!!!!!! :p

This dolls just a vampire... Their shadow is just a pocketwatch (among many they collect) but for some reason it won't move from one specific time no matter what! I wonder why....

For this one id just like a story..! it doesnt have to be scary and it can be about anything as long as its about the doll/something they experienced. and id like if it could make me Feel something.. theres no word limit but caution restraint please! (prettying/extras are allowed)

Code: Select all

username:
doll's name:
gender:
shadow's name:
story:
why wont their shadow keep ticking..?: (optional)

some notes.. their sidebangs are longer on one side, they have bandages on their neck and right hand, and none of their wings are useful for flight! ends november 18th! good luuuck ^^

[merrodi]

m......m... mark

[Ash.e]

username: Richmc
doll's name: Raymond
gender: Male
shadow's name: tickky
story: W.I.P
why wont their shadow keep ticking..?: W.I.P(optional)

[lysander]

 

d  m  i  t  r  i  !

┌───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐

ヾ ( * ' ▽ ' * )
h a n d s  o f  t i m e   w i l l  w r i n g  m y  n e c k !
e v e r y  l i t t l e   m o m e n t  s p e l l s  r e g r e t !
name: dmitri: / shadow: moira

pale machine. masquerade. vieille ville. lullaby. my time.

└───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

 

once someone told him that a pocket watch held all the secrets of the universe.

well ! dmitri once thought it was a very bold saying— quite illogical, at that! after all, how can an object so tiny possibly hold so much, when the universe was as vast and as grand as the eye could see?

it all started with the first little tick.

originally, it was just some little trinket he found. a lonely object sitting undiscovered, unnoticed in a small drawer in the back of an antique shop. he doesn't even like antiques, you see— a mere temp job meant to keep him afloat for a while, unceremoniously dusting off the merchandise in the many hours of free time he got being the clerk. but one day, he uncovered a little object— no bigger than half the size of his palm —a glistening thing etched with an intricate design.

a pocket watch.
however, it was not ticking.
this was the opposite of what watches were supposed to do.

therefore, it was clear that the logical thing to do would be to fix it. what good was a watch that didn't work, after all?
finally, after what felt like a century— it was fixed. it, once again, began to tick.

tick.

tick

tick.

hm. that's funny.
dmitri put the watch to his ear, listening closely.
again:

t ick.

ti ck

t i c k.

something wasn't right. he couldn't put his finger on it— was it the timbre of the sound? the way the hand struck each second like a bell tolling? no— no. that wasn't it.

this was fate's watch.

suddenly, the clasp sprang open, clockface no longer adorned with numbers and lines— instead a perfect sphere of complete darkness, no— not even that —the absolute absence of light. a void capable of swallowing everything, even time itself— a black hole.

and it began to draw him in.
like the voracious appetite of a monster, against all laws of physics.
it drew him in. smaller, smaller, until he found himself looking up at the ceiling of the antique shop.

was it always so far away?

like some hapless alice, he found himself free-falling through darkness, the force of gravity shifting, twisting, like twine— he couldn't tell which way was up or down, east, west— until he finally connected with something solid, fall broken.

welcome to wonderland.


---


"ah, so rare to see a visitor around these parts. how do you do?"

dmitri opened his eyes.
standing above him is a girl with a mask dressed in black.
the sight of her causes him to scream aaaaAAAAAA like a child. but the worse part of it all is the sudden peal of laughter sprouting from the girl.

oh my god this is embarrassing noooo. he thought he was moments away from certain doom and— now he's being laughed at by a literal child? dmitri shrinks into the ground. let him disappear. please. he's wheezing.

the girl, on the other hand, slowly begins to calm down. "oh my goodness! you're already so amusing! pray tell, what is your name sweet mortal?"

"w-w-w-why should i tell you?" he spits back, frowning.

"because i am the only one here."

"h-how do i know that?"

the girl motions towards their surroundings. his attention focuses.
all around darkness surrounds them, save for a little table for two. atop its surface, tea and biscuits. as if this girl waited all this time for a visitor.

"my name is moira," she offers, moving to take a seat at the table. "and this is my home. please, dear mortal, do make yourself comfortable."

with nothing else to do or even so much as look at, he obliges. takes a seat at the table, still wondering if this wasn't all a dream— some figment of his imagination conjured by the boredom of droll clerk duty. after all, no logic at all could explain this.
and that's what scared him the most.


---


he lived his life in facts and figures prior to that day.
always between the lines of a schedule or the guidance of law. structures that made the big bad world feel manageable, that calmed the near-constant anxiety plaguing his neurotic little brain.

in school, he was known for laughing nervously in the face of stress— ears glowing red and palms sweating under the pressure of some perceived threat— so for all intents and purposes, you could say this one thing to be true:

dmitri was a coward.

once he thought a snake somehow got into his fridge, its green body rolling out the door and onto the linoleum of his kitchen and— he cried for like, probably five hours behind the couch before realizing it was the zucchini he bought three days ago.

yeah. uh. not one of his proudest moments.

but he had a wish— a desire to change who he was— a desire to do good, be better— be someone he could be proud of. but what could he do, with his nervous stutter and cowardice? with the keychain on his belt he kept as a "good luck" charm even when he didn't believe in something as imaginary as luck? what could he do, when even the thought of striking up a conversation with someone was enough to make him hyperventilate? when he couldn't even stand up to his own bullies which beat his self esteem into a pulp on the daily?

there's no way to change fate, he thought. and it seemed like he was destined to be a loser all his life, alone and without a friend.

but he didn't consider this: that maybe change is fate.


---

they talked for hours. or at least what felt like hours.

the feeling of fear began to subside once dmitri realized that nothing in his immediate vicinity was a threat, and moira herself seemed to be nothing more than a placid conversationalist. actually— in all truth, moira herself was a curious one. her mask aside, her dress seemed to be of an old 18th century style (dmitri loved history, after all) and even her manner of speech hearkened back to long lost days of yore.

on her neck hung a brilliant gold locket. noticing dmitri's interest, she brought it out into full view.

"a little treasure from my family," she explains.

"you... had a family?"

"yes, once, long ago." her tone softens. dmitri doesn't need to see her eyes to know her expression. "they are all dead now."

dmitri doesn't know what to say.
the silence between them is uncomfortable, until dmitri tries to change the topic.

"y-y'know, usually i have... such a hard time talking to people. it's... hard. but... for some reason, i can talk to you... i wonder why?"

he laughs— sheepish blush forming on his face. moira merely smiles in response, taking her tea cup and pressing its rim to her lips. sip. she puts it down.

"perhaps it is the loneliness," she says quietly.

dmitri blinks once, twice. at length: "...are you lonely?"

"i have been within the confines of this place for... far too long. i believe i've forgotten what the sun feels like. yet— if i were to return..."

"—return?" dmitri echoes. the words bring back his sense of urgency— that's right. both of them were trapped here. he interrupts her, standing up with pulse beating loud in his ears. "—d-do you know how to g—get out of here?" he practically stumbles over his words in his haste to get them out.

but moira doesn't meet his eyes. "this watch— it is the devil's trinket."

"the— the what?"

"a trap."

he doesn't understand. he chokes out a nervous laugh, "h-ha, a trap? why..."

"a fiendish contraption that steals the soul of whatever miserable wretch comes across it. it is then used to power the object indefinitely. many such false relics exist in the world— relics said to contain the secrets of the universe, the knowledge of the gods— all lies. and my younger self was unfortunate enough to unearth one of them."

"—but! but— you said— s-something about returning? i-is it possible?"

"oh, certainly. the devil's machinations are far more complex than a simple cage."

moira sets her tea cup down. her voice is steady and cold.

"a soul for a soul. that is the price of freedom."

dmitri doesn't understand.
the cogs in his brain turn slowly, putting the pieces together.
by the time he realizes the implications, it's too late. moira is already standing up.

"please forgive me for this."

out of the darkness, chains begin to snake around his ankles— his arms— his limbs— binding him to the chair with constricting strength— no hope of escape. a strangled cry breaches the air— please— please— i want to leave— wake up dmitri— wake up—

—then, as suddenly as they coiled around him, they freeze.
someone is crying. it's surprisingly not him. it's moira.
crouched on the floor, her tears burst forth like a torrent. like she's been holding them back for so, so long.
the chains recede back into the dark, and, for once, dmitri doesn't run.
he crouches down with her, putting his hand on her shoulder. this only makes her cry more.

"i-i don't want to trap anyone. i don't want to— i don't want to do what was done to me just to be free— but i— it's been so long— i must be dead in the outside world— my family— my sister— i-i—"

dmitri pulls her into a hug.
for all her fancy language and composure, it hits him in full force— she's just a child. even more scared than him.

"it's kind of funny, i think," he starts. "the first person i could really hold a convo with is stuck in a watch... and almost tried to trap me too. i must have really good taste in pals, huh?"

moira laughs. sort of. something between a laugh and a cry.

"a-and you are the first i've spoken to in so, so long... i... "

she takes a deep breath.

"...i can't keep you here after all."

now, she stands, straightening her dress. dmitri stands with her. thoughts are racing in his mind.

"—i don't want you to be alone."

"there is only room for one soul, dmitri. your time... is almost up. one of us will have to leave."

"then... let me stay."

"i won't let you."

"w-why not?"

"because you still have a life to live."

with these words, moira carefully takes off her mask. her eyes are a brilliant green, still puffy from crying. she's smiling ever so gently.

"please, promise me this— leave this cage and live in my stead. i won't allow the devil to have his way."

"but— you'll be alone!"

moira ignores his rebuttal. "i used to love books— you have books in your time still, do you not? will you read them for me?"

"moira—"

"—please."
her voice breaks. "please... do as i say. and live life to the fullest if not for yourself, then... for me."

dmitri opens his mouth to speak—
—and finds himself free-falling through darkness once again.
moira says one last thing before the ground swallows him completely:

"thank you."


---


when he opens his eyes, he's sitting at desk. the black pocket watch ticks next to his hand.
sitting up, he scans his surroundings. he's back at the old antique shop, remnants of the evening sun pouring through the window.

did he fall sleep?

he opens the watch to check the time— half an hour past six —and a burst of panic surges through his body. crap crap crap crap i'm late for cram school— hhhgnnhflhf —in one swift motion, he grabs his bag and keys, leaving the counter behind—

—but in the silence, the watch still ticks.
a pause. just a moment to remember a voice in the darkness. promise me.

dmitri takes the watch and clasps it tightly in his hand.



---


afterword:

if it wasn't clear, the watch is an object created by some kind of malicious entity made to trap souls in it. the soul powers the object or blesses it as long as it is trapped inside. for example, the watch will tick forever as long as there's a soul inside. a sword might bring victories to its wielder. a glass might constantly be full no matter how much one drinks from it. for this reason, these objects are said to be relics blessed by god, making them extremely valuable— but no one knows the truth behind these objects— that they require a soul to continue working.

the soul inside may, however, temporarily "turn off" the effects or functions of an object in order to lure another person in. it's something like a baiting tactic— as the soul housed inside the object cannot trap another soul directly by contact. prolonged attention and contact is needed to initiate the transfer, ensuring only those who are greedy and overuse the object are the ones who are trapped by it.

of course, this isn't always he case. moira was simply a child struck by curiosity, and dmitri— well, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. after all this, he devotes the rest of his life to learning about cursed artifacts, looking for a way to free the souls trapped within them.

WOW I AM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG

[Angelus Gaston]

---

[vympyre]

marking !!!!

[mousekewitz]

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rowdyraven ✧ vlad (he/him) ✧ mooshka (shadow)
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♫ playlist :: Polaroid, The One Moment, Don't Stop

why mooshka doesnt tick


story

shadow's name: mooshka (affectionate term no one knows real name)
story:
- got his hands burned (bandages)
- urh ? young doll ig, very chipper and excited
why wont their shadow keep ticking..?: the very second the human lost hope in their dream and mooshka came into being

[Junker Queen]

username: ~Cupid~
doll's name: Savanah
gender: Female
shadow's name: Clara
story: apocalyptic pocket watch from a different era of time
why wont their shadow keep ticking..?: (optional) *( tim burten theme im going for here) someone must stitch there shadow back to them and since it wont tick she is forever stuck in time

[blimq]

dropping, good luck to everyone entering <3

[Lorne_Purnima]

Lil mark c: