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thehotelbellamuerte2022 · 2 years

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The Hotel Bella Muerte: The Doll Room

Thump! My eyes shot open. Thump! I quickly shot up in the bed. Thump! Thump! Thump! What the hell was that?!? I got up quickly from the bed and tripped over my own two feet in the process, falling flat on my face into the carpet. I slowly stood, making sure that I hadn’t broken anything in the process, and looked around the room checking to see if anyone had seen my fall, but quickly regained my bearings and realized where I was and how ridiculous a thought that was. I straightened my clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles, and walked toward where I believed the sound had originated. Thump! The sound came once more from the other side of my door. Whatever was making the thumping noise had to be very large based on the increasing loudness of each thump. I paused thinking about whether or not I wanted to open the door after all, but decided I’d rather find out who or what was making the noise rather than stay scared and huddled in a corner of my room. With that, I reached out my hand, albeit a shaky hand, began to unlock and open the door, swinging it open wide.

Clink. Something touched my foot. Shrieking and jumping back, yanking back my leg to shake off whatever had touched my foot, looking down quickly in the process.

“What the hell?” I said quizzically.

All that I had imagined in my head to be on the other side of the door couldn’t compare to what actually was there, lying face down on the floor. It was tiny, doll , just lying there, chilling out and just…. laying there. Not the monster I had imagined but what I would come to wish had been the monster after all. It was a petite, old fashioned doll.

I picked the doll up and began to look at it. It was an old, old doll. Made from what I imagined was porcelain or bisque, with a white sleeping gown on like the one you would have seen in an old photo of a young baby in years past. The face of the doll was childlike, with pink, rosy cheeks and wide blue glass eyes, and short, curly, honey brown hair. It looked innocent enough. I would almost venture to say it was pretty if I was the sort of person who collected dolls, but I wasn’t. I found them utterly creepy and weird.

“Now who left you here?” I asked it as if it would answer me. It didn’t. It just stared back at me unblinkingly. “And where in the world did you come from?” Still no answer. I called out a “Hello” wondering if maybe Mr. Elberton left it for me as a gift, though I didn’t quite believe that he could’ve knocked on the door so hard with those boney arms. Plus, I wouldn’t have described the sound as a knock. I was still half asleep and just wanted to get back to bed so I decided I would pursue the mystery later on the next morning. Till then the doll would be fine sitting in the chair in the sitting portion of the room. I set the doll gently in the chair and walked over to bed. Taking one last look at the doll, I laid back down and resumed my favorite sleeping position. Something was making me uneasy though. I reopened my eyes and looked over to the doll which was still sitting right where I had left it, still staring, still not blinking. That’s when I saw it. It was quick, hardly there, more of a flutter really, but I swear I had seen the doll’s eyes blink.

I shot up once again and being careful not to trip and fall, got up and walked over to the doll. I picked it back up and stared at it as if it was a staring contest. The doll won. I eased her back down but this time I turned her to face the opposite direction to me on the bed, that way she wouldn’t keep giving me the willies. I walked back over and got comfortable on the bed, closed my eyes and started to fall back asleep. Thump! Clink! I jumped up. This time the thumping was in the room with me. I looked to the floor, where the clinking sound came from and found the doll once again laying there on the ground. Surely, surely the thumps hadn’t come from the doll had they?

I got up very begrudgingly, my whole body feeling heavy with sleep, and walked over to the now fallen doll on the floor. I picked her up and gave her the once over, nothing broken, nothing strange at all about her, just the same staring, icy blue eyes. I set her back on the chair and slowly walked backwards to the bed, sat down on the edge, never taking my eyes off the doll. If it was the doll making the noise I was going to catch it this time. I must have stared at the doll for what felt like an eternity. It never blinking or moving, no thumps or clinking, it just sat there. I decided maybe the doll was perhaps a little shy. Maybe I needed to look away from the doll for it to do something. So I turned to the wall facing the opposite direction. After what felt like a second eternity I was about to give up. After all the thought that the doll was the source of the noise was preposterous. It wasn’t like the doll was a living being. THUMP! I jumped and spun around.

“Holy shit!” I screamed.

The doll was no longer on the chair. It wasn’t on the floor either. It had somehow moved and was sitting directly behind me on the bed. In my momentary fear I accidentally knocked it off the bed in one swift kick. The room started to shake and a rumbling sound began to exude from every wall crack and crevice of the room. It felt like what I would imagine a small earthquake to feel like. I sprung forward and grabbed the doll from where she had flown off the bed and onto the ground. I grabbed it quickly and began to apologize profusely to it, sitting on the floor with it, back to the bed, hoping it would calm it. After a few minutes of apologizing and nothing happening I decided to change tactics. Maybe a few compliments wouldn’t hurt anything? I told the doll how beautiful she was (despite the fact that I thought she was ugly as sin) and how much I liked her dress, the color of her eyes etc……… and surprisingly she calmed down and the rumbling and shaking of the room began to slowly die down with each compliment. Soon the rumbling ceased as did the loud pounding of my heart. I continued to hold the doll for a few more minutes. That’s when the thought hit me like a car. I had forgotten a crucial step in the process of closing the hotel for the night. I forgot to turn all the dolls facing the wall of the doll room. But where in the world was the doll room?

I decided to take another more in depth look at the hotel. I had no idea which room was the supposed “doll room” but I would find it before the night ended if I wanted to get any sleep at all. While still holding the doll, I got up off the floor, being careful not to drop the doll as I did so, and started for the door. After going down to the front desk to get the master keys I had left hanging on their hook, I decided I would start with the first room and work my way down the halls till I found the right room. I opened room #1. It was very unlike the rest of the hotel. The room was top to bottom jungle themed. A mural was on the wall depicting a typical jungle scene, a jaguar in the top corner slipping down the front of a tree, eyes on his next meal; a beautiful bird with bright, colorful plumage sitting on the forest floor. Other various birds looked on at the scene, hoping that their fellow feathered friend wouldn’t be somebody else’s lunch. The skill with which the mural had been painted was exceptional. The room itself was filled with a number of different plants of all varieties, making the room even more jungle like. As I stared mesmerized by the scene depicted, I became again all too aware of the little doll I held in my hands when it started to breathe. That’s right you heard me, the little creep began to breathe. I almost didn’t notice it at first, but the longer I stared into the room the more labored the breathing became, as if the doll wanted to make its presence known and remind me of the current task at hand. I closed the door softly and moved on to room #2 at the opposite side of the hallway.

I unlocked the door and opened it wide. Now this room was a little smaller than the last. The theme of this room seemed to be more modern. With a white deco flair, the whole room was….well…..white. White walls, white furniture, white bed….you get it; everything all sterile, unmoving white. The only things that gave color to the room were the various vases and china plates that hung on the walls with their splashes of cornflower blue hues. This room felt empty for the most part, like it was devoid of something that could give it life. I quickly closed the door and moved on since there was nothing worth seeing there. Moving on to room #3, I looked down and noticed that the doll, who had remained breathing and blinking now, began to look to the side at door #3 then back at me, those icy blue eyes staring a hole through me.

I began to move far more quickly now, panic beginning to set in. Was the doll literally coming alive? If I didn’t hurry would the doll begin to talk and walk as well? What were its intentions for me? The answer to these questions I did not know but I wasn’t going to plan on finding out. I swung room #3 open. At first glance this room looked like something you would find in a medieval castle. I couldn’t help but stop and stare in awe at the craftsmanship of the wood work that spanned the walls from floor to ceiling; the deep chestnut tones gave the room warmth as a fireplace lit up the whole room, which I found strange since I hadn’t seen a fireplace anywhere on the roof of the hotel. I wanted to spend time in this voluptuous room, but now the doll began to squirm a little. I said a mental farewell to the room as I left its luxury and comfort and turned quickly to the next room.

The room’s placard read #4. I quickly unlocked the door, rushing now to find the “doll room” and praying that this would be it. I did not want to find out what this doll was capable of if it truly “awakened” from its normal repose. This room, unfortunately, was not the doll room. It looked to be a room you would find in a dirty cottage, or perhaps underground hut, and unlike a hobbit hole this room was a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, and it did not radiate comfort in the least. This particular room was very easy to leave behind and I did so as quickly as possible, turning my nose up at the stench that wafted from it.

Room #5 was different from all the rest. This room looked like my childhood bedroom, or rather the childhood bedroom of a young boy who was deeply into sports of all types and kinds. There were sports posters hung from the wall, dirty clothes strewn about the floor and every hang-able surface.

“Just like I boy.” I muttered as I shook my head disapprovingly.

This room also had a weird funk to it, which I attributed to all the dirty laundry and gym cleats about the place. The place looked quite lived in, in comparison to the white deco room, but once again this room was not the doll room. I shut the door yet again growing more frantic and disappointed that I had not yet found the room. Perhaps I wouldn’t in time and the doll would come alive only to murder me in cold blood, at least that was what my brain was telling me would happen based on all the horror movies I had watched in my lifetime. At any rate I didn’t want to find out; I wanted to find the stupid doll room!

Room #6. This on felt promising for some reason, I mean how many more rooms would I have to go thru before I found the one?

“5 down and only 9 more rooms to go.” I said not liking those odds once I had said them out loud. “Well,” I looked at the doll, “Here’s to hoping.” I added crossing my fingers.

The room’s door opened with a hurried and loud bang as it hit the wall. Straight ahead in the back of the room was a set of long, double, glass doors, opened fully in the moonlight. I could hear the sound of gulls crying, being carried by the gentle breeze that blew through the open doors, fluttering the soft white curtains that surrounded them. This room looked like the upstairs bedroom of a beach house, complete with the widows walk that lay just beyond the doors in the back. It was a peaceful scene, and for a moment it calmed my spirit, reminding me that everything was going be ok. Then the doll started humming a jaunty little tune, reminding me everything was not going to be a-okay if I didn’t hurry up and find the fucking doll room. So I reluctantly left this room behind and moved on to room #7.

Please, please, please the doll room, I thought, almost uttering the words out loud but deciding not too in case the doll took offense a second time. I jiggled the key in the lock. Once I got that open I went to open the door, only to find it wouldn’t budge. I bumped the door a little. Nothing. I tried to lock and unlock the door hoping the third time would be the charm. Still, nothing. That was when the doll uttered a “Mama?”

“Oh hell naw!” I yelled out as I decided to body slam the door.

It took me three tries. Three tries and on the third, I very ungracefully entered the room similarly to how I had witnessed dozens of football players run into the opposing line at my high school football games. Now in order for you to fully get the level of fear I was now facing I have to break away from this narrative to tell a short story from my childhood.

I loved dolls as a child. Like any other little girl, I had my some odd 15 or 16 Barbie dolls and baby dolls growing up. I looked forward to Christmas and birthdays with the hope I could get another to add to my ever growing collection. You might be asking yourself how I went from loving dolls to hating them with fervor. Well I’ll tell you, my stupid Aunt Mable that’s what. She had a collection of every type of doll imaginable. Porcelain dolls, baby dolls, those cringey lifelike ones that people actually trick themselves into believing they’re real, and my all time favorite, ventriloquist dolls.

When I would go over to her house for a visit as a little girl, I loved to ooh and aah at all the pretty dolls. My most favorite was one that wore a floor length lavender purple, ballroom gown and had gorgeous dark brown, curly hair that was tied up into a loose bun, and carried a small parasol that matched her dress over her left shoulder. She would even let me play tea party with a few. I enjoyed my time at her house and was always sad to go and leave them behind. Well one summer I spent 3 days at her house while my parents went on a couples retreat. I remember being so excited. Thinking back on it now it’s almost unfortunate what happened next.

When I got there that summer day, it was hot and sticky outside in the humid air. I was ushered into the cool and refreshing house by my aunt. She told me I would be staying in the back bedroom which was technically the front of the old Victorian house since it faced the street, but my aunt only lived in the back end of the house for some reason. The only reason that I could remember was because the back of the house had air conditioning and the front didn’t. Anyways, I took my little suitcase and hurriedly and excitedly took it to the back of the house because that was where she kept her doll collection. I was thrilled to be in the”back” of the house where the dolls were; I just knew my aunt would let me play with them every day. After I had placed my suitcase in the room I turned around gleefully to see my favorite doll, however, there was a new face sitting next to where she was, higher up on a stack of boxes. Sitting there was a ventriloquist doll. It was one of those Charlie McCarthy dolls that had been super popular in the 1930’s. I had, up till that time never seen a doll quite like it. Sure I had seen other ventriloquist dolls before, my aunt had several in the attic where I was never allowed to go alone, but this one was different somehow. It was dressed to the nines in a fancy, black tux with coattails, a monocle, and a sly, wide toothy grin. To complete the look he even had a black top hat. His glass eyes were open wide and I felt a little uneasy under their leering glare. As I stood there staring at the doll my aunt had, unknown to me, walked up behind me.

“Do you like him?” She asked giving me a scare.

“I….I guess so?” I replied. “What’s his name?”

“His name is Charlie. He’s my newest little friend,” she always called her dolls her little friends as if that somehow made them more real and her less lonely. “I just got him in yesterday along with a few others. He is very special, he can talk and move on his own.” She added.

My eyes grew wide with the thought. If he could talk and move on his own, did that mean he could walk as well? “Aunt Mable,” I ventured, “Can he walk too?”

“Well you never know but it’ll be when you aren’t looking and you least expect it.” She said with a suggestive wink.

Now in my childish mind, the thought of a walking, talking, moving doll about the same height as me was terrifying. I loved to play with them and make up stories with them but if any of them began to move or talk on their own…..let’s just say I wasn’t too keen on the idea, but that wasn’t the only reason I would come to hate that doll.

That night at my aunt’s house, after I finished brushing my teeth, I walked down the hallway to my bedroom. I had spent most of the latter part of the day in the front of the house with my aunt baking cookies and making dinner, then watching my favorite movie at the time, Beauty and the Beast, while eating in the living room on tv dinner trays. Now that it was night and the sun had set, the world was dark and quiet out except for the electric hum of the street lamp that sat directly outside the door. As I turned to head into my room for the night, I instinctively turned to take a look at the dolls just as I had done a hundred times before, except this time it was night out, and I had never seen the dolls in the dark before. You see, there was a window that sat just above the door, a green stained glass window with flecks of red intertwined with the green, and blue edges that made the colors pop. The window was beautiful in the daytime and equally so in the night due to the streetlamp that shone through.

As I turned to look once more at the dolls, I found myself absolutely horrified. The reds, greens and blues from the stained glass window gave an eerie glow to the room. Depending on where the colored light shone, it glinted off the dolls glass eyes, gave their skin in an unnatural, sickly, pallor and bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of hair raising hues. I surveyed the room, my heart pounding and my palms becoming sweaty. My eyes finally rested on the largest doll of all, Charlie. As the light came through, it made his eyes look as if they glowed green, his skin only perpetuated the villainous look, and the boxes he sat atop seemed to only make him seem bigger in the dark. I froze with fear and remembered the words of my aunt, He is very special, he can talk and move on his own, but it’ll be when you aren’t looking and you least expect it. I stared, stopped in my tracks and unmoving. How could I take my eyes off of him if he would just move on his own the moment I stopped?

My aunt came back to tuck me in and glanced from me to Charlie. “He is wonderful isn’t he?” she said almost in awe of him.

Then she quickly ushered me to bed but I never took my eyes off him once till I rounded the corner. She tucked me in and gave me a kiss on the forehead, said her goodnights and see you in the mornings, then turned off the bedside lamp, and left the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as I heard her footsteps fade, I turned the light back on. I sat up in bed never taking my eyes off the door. I thought perhaps if I didn’t turn off the light and kept my eyes on the door, even if Charlie opened the door he would simply drop to the floor the moment I laid eyes on him or be frozen in place as if I had been Medusa from Greek mythology. Either way, I made up my mind not to fall asleep that night.

It only took an hour or two before I began to droop in the bed, my back becoming tired from sitting so alertly. I was so tired but I wasn’t about to let Charlie catch me unawares. I looked at the clock. It read 10:47pm. It was only little over an hour past my bedtime, but I had played hard that day and fear has a way of making you tired after a while. I straightened up in bed determined not to fall asleep. That was when I noticed a new sensation. My bladder was making itself known. I decided to hold off as long as I could before making the trek to the only one of two bathrooms in the whole house. There was one in my aunts room and one on the completely other side of the house. Either way, I was going to have to move past the dolls and Charlie to get to one.

I waited for as long as I could, holding my stomach and trying various sitting positions to relieve the tension that was beginning to band around my lower abdomen. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt like I was about to explode if I didn’t hurry to the bathroom and I, being a self respecting 5 year old, refused to wet the bed. I got out of the bed and walked to the door. I stood there listening for awhile but heard nothing. I decided if I opened the door fast enough, I could prevent Charlie from rushing me or coming into the room, which in my mind was the only safe space in the entire house. I jerked the door open. Charlie still sat, perched upon his box looking more menacing than ever. I skirted down the wall, never breaking eye contact with him. Maybe it was a trick of the light or maybe it was because I was so tired, but I swore I saw him blink. Terror filled my tiny frame. I should have just wet the bed. I sprinted down the hallway on tippy toes, almost playing a game of hopscotch as I went, trying not to wake my aunt stepping on all the creaky boards along the way. I’m sure thinking back on it now I looked quite comical, but at the time I was just trying to survive the night.

As soon as I got to the bathroom I quickly shut the door and turned on the lights. I listened at the door for the sound of footsteps following me, but heard none. I quickly relieved myself, and prayed a silent prayer before heading back down the long hallway. I faced forward, glancing anxiously to and from every possible hiding spot in the house, thinking that Charlie may be hiding in any one of them and praying he wasn’t. I got back to where the dolls were and peeked around the corner. Charlie was still there, leering as he ever did. I skirted back against the length of wall that led to my room and closed the door. Walking backwards to the bed, I never took my eyes off the door. I sat up all night that night. Whenever I thought I was getting too tired to keep my eyes open, I would hear a creak or groan, and I just knew it had to be that horrible doll walking around outside my door. I got up the next morning with bags under my eyes and a crick in my back, and opened my door. There was Charlie, looking like he hadn’t moved even a little but I knew in my child’s heart he had been up all night with me. I spent every night at my aunt’s house like that, propped up in bed staring dumbly at the door, snatching quick naps during the day so I could stay up all night. By the time my parents came to pick me up I imagine I looked pretty rough. My parents said nothing in front of my aunt, though my mother eyed me suspiciously, and I was grateful for that since I didn’t want my aunt to know what had transpired and seem ungrateful for her hospitality. When I got home though, I told my parents of my ordeal, crying my eyes out as I did, falling into a deep, deep slumber after a short while. Needless to say my parents didn’t let me spend the night at my aunt’s house ever again, and to my knowledge my aunt never found out why.

Now, this memory flashed in my mind after I came barreling through the door. Once I had regained my bearings and had a chance to look around, I realized I had found the doll room at last. The name implied that there would be many dolls in this room, hence the name, but I hadn’t hit me till that very moment. From floor to ceiling were rows of shelves hanging on the powder pink walls. As I stepped further into the room I noticed that on these shelves were various names. On some of the shelves dolls still sat atop them, each name belonging to a specific doll. All had a first and last name, and each was unique and dainty. I turned about the room at the middle, glancing from doll to doll. Leecie Belle, Eleanor Rose, Mary May, Clarence Starling, and so forth. All the dolls had names. Then I noticed to my utter shock and horror, that unlike my aunt’s little friends, they all were moving, all breathing, blinking, and some were even talking in hushed tones, just like the doll I now absentmindedly held in my arms.

I stared at them as they stared back, never once moving an inch. That was when I realized something else. There were spaces missing on the shelves. I quickly read the names……Annabelle Lee, Hattie Jo, Lilly Anne, August Dee, Huckleberry Finn, and Augustus Jones. Seven….seven were missing. Where in the sam hill were they? I began to panic even more than I already had, my heart close to bursting with the pounding of my heart. I whirled around when I heard a bubbly, little giggle. Standing there were five little dolls. 3 boys and 2 girls, one pointing at me as the others giggled and two looking curiously out the door. Apparently they had heard me coming and sought to fortify the door lest I interrupt their fun. I wanted this to stop, I wanted to be anywhere but in that room, I wanted so many things at that moment; but we rarely ever get what we want now do we?

I tried to think of what to do but I blanked. I knew for sure that I didn’t want them getting out of the room, so I decided that the first order of business was to close and lock the door, which I did posthaste. The next thing I did was close my eyes and stop to take a breath, easily the first one I had taken since I had gotten in the room good. I didn’t need to be passing out, that wouldn’t do me any good. Then I remembered the rules which I now regarded as my survival guide. The rules clearly stated that I needed to “Make sure you face the dolls in the doll room facing the wall at night.” Why that helped anything or did any good I didn’t care at the time. I just wanted to get those dozens of eyes off me and looking at the wall.

I hoped if I could face the dolls on the shelves towards the wall first I would have more luck so that’s what I did. As soon as I faced the first doll to the wall, it was like turning a switch. The doll stopped all movement. There was no breathing, blinking, staring rumbling, thumping or clinking, the doll simply froze. I, now that I was close to the wall, got a better glimpse at the wallpaper, and something caught my eye. On the pink wall there was written words, left to right, top to bottom, all over the paper. After studying them for a moment, it looked like the language they appeared to be in was latin. I didn’t know what the words meant but things written in latin are seldom ever a good thing, especially in weird, enchanted, logic defying, time hopping hotels like this one. I scrambled now to turn the dolls to the walls, the song “Get Low” playing in my head as I did so. I finished quick enough, but that’s when the empty slots seemed even emptier.

I turned my attention back to the dolls which were now closing in on me. I had no idea which doll was which but I didn’t care. They were going on the shelves one way or another. I swooped up the first girl doll and shoved it in the closest slot, facing the wall, then I grabbed the second. I shoved it in the next available place and began to reach for the next one, a boy this time, when the room began to rumble and shake I dropped the doll I had just grabbed and spun around. The doll I had just placed had spun its head around a complete 180degrees, looking at me disapprovingly. I grabbed that doll back off the shelf and the rumbling stopped immediately and its head returned to normal. I tried the next spot on a different shelf and once again the rumbling began. I grabbed it back off the shelf. Maybe this was the dolls way of saying it was the wrong place? I kept trying slots and on the fifth try the room didn’t rumble when I placed the doll. I kept this up till all but the first doll, the one from outside my door, had been placed. I took another last look at the doll in my hands, then up at the shelf.

“Huh, so you’re Annabelle Lee then.” I said to myself.

I placed her in her spot then stood back to look at the room. Now remember how I said there were 7 empty slots? I was never very good at algebra in school but simple math I was a pro at. There had only been 5 dolls on the floor and 1 in my arms. All the rest had been still in their places. I turned to look at the corner of the room. There was still one empty slot left in the room, on the third shelf from the floor, at eye level, first in the row, was the 7th empty slot. I groaned and hung my head low as I walked over to it, with a deep sigh I looked at the name on the spot. I was prepared to go hunting this missing doll all throughout the hotel if need be, but I would at least know the name of the doll first before I went hunting for it. My eyes grew big, my breath hitched, and my heart stopped. Written on the shelf in front of the last slot was the name….Autumn Winters.

I spun around and ran from the room slamming and locking it behind me. Why was my name there? What did it mean? Were all those other dolls once real people too? A thousand thoughts ran through my head. As soon as the key clicked in the lock and I gave the knob a quick turn, just to make sure it was locked, I ran then down the halls to my own room, slammed the door not caring if I awoke Mr. Elberton, and locked my own door. I looked around the room and grabbed the nearest chair and wedged into the door. Nothing was going to come for me tonight. I practically jumped onto the bed and stared at the door, listening for any and all movement on the other side. I must have stayed there for hours unmoving, hardly blinking. About the time exhaustion set in and my eyelids began to slowly close; I heard a rapping as if someone had been tapping, tapping at my balcony’s door.

#The Hotel Bella Muerte #The Doll Room #Part 3 #creepypasta

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shisekibo · 2 years

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[Event Story] Chapter Two - A Precious Doll

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Basement - Butler’s Room

Lato:

“Hm... So, us Basement Butlers, Master and the black cat will be going on this mission?”

Miyaji:

“It seems so.”

Flure:

“Master. Let’s make our way to Doll Town!”

Lato:

“Flure, it’s almost night-time.”

Lato:

“We can set off in the morning.”

Flure:

“But... We should get to Doll Town as fast as possible...”

Miyaji:

“Hm... You sound eager, Flure.”

Flure:

“E-erm... Do I?”

Lato:

“Ahh... I see. I get it.”

Flure:

“Huh? L-Lato...?”

Lato:

“You’re interested in Doll Town itself.”

Miyaji:

“Ah, I see. That’s why.”

Choices:

“Interested in Doll Town?”

“You like dolls?”

Flure:

“!!”

Muu:

“Um... Doll Town is where we’re going for this mission, right?”

Lato:

“Yes.”

Lato:

“A while ago, Flure told me about when he was younger...”

Lato:

“He used to play with dolls when he was a child.”

Choices:

“That seems like Flure...”

“I’m a bit surprised...”

Flure:

“O-oi, Lato! Stop it right now...!”

Muu:

“Mr. Lato! Please carry on!”

Flure:

“Wh-, Muu?!”

Lato:

“Hahaha. And also...”

Lato:

“His favourite type was a porcelain doll called a bisque doll...”

Muu:

“A bisque doll? What’s that?”

Lato:

“They’re a type of traditional doll from the Central County.”

Lato:

“They’re so elaborately made that they look human...”

Lato:

“They’re very beautiful dolls. Just like ‘humans who have lost their hearts’.”

Muu:

“It’s kind of scary when you say it, Mr. Lato...”

Lato:

“Oh? Really?”

Lato:

“I just said what I was thinking.”

Lato:

“And Doll Town is full of bisque doll makers.”

Muu:

“I see, I see! So Mr. Flure...”

Muu:

“...wants to get there as soon as possible and see the bisque dolls!”

Flure:

“Well... I...”

Lato:

“By the way, Mr. Black Cat. Flure’s bisque doll is in that closet.”

Lato:

“Shall I go get it for you?”

Muu:

“I knew you’d already have one, Mr. Flure!”

Flure:

“Huh?! I said wait, Lato!”

Lato:

“Gahaha. Hmm... I’m sure it was around here...”

Lato:

“Here, I found it. Isn’t it a beautiful doll?”

Flure:

“God... You can’t just show other people’s things off...”

It was a beautifully made doll, with realistic and gorgeous eyes.

It was a female doll with auburn hair.

Muu:

“It’s beautiful. Breathtakingly so.”

Flure:

“R-really? What do you think, Master?”

Choices:

“I think she’s really beautiful.”

“I think you have a wonderful hobby.”

Flure:

“Y-you think so? I make the clothes myself, actually.”

Muu:

“Wow, Mr. Flure! You can even make doll’s clothes!”

Flure:

“Of course! They’re the same as normal clothes, just smaller!”

Flure:

“First, you take the doll’s measurements...”

Flure:

“Then you make the pattern paper in that size.”

Flure:

“Then you trace the shape of the pattern paper into the material...”

Flure:

“And cut along that line.”

Flure:

“Finally, you sew the materials together and make the clothes.”

Lato:

“I see... So that’s what you do all day.”

Lato:

“Please let me help you one day.”

Flure:

“Hmph... It’s not that easy, you know?”

Flure:

“It’s extremely complex, okay?”

Flure:

“It’s not just sewing. There’s running stitches and hemming and darning and whip stitching... There’s a lot.”

Flure:

“You can’t just make clothes in one day.”

Flure:

“...”

Flure:

“I-I’m sorry! I started rambling...”

Choices:

“I want to see you making clothes.”

Flure:

“Huh?! Watch me?!”

Flure:

“If you insist, Master...”

- Some Time Later -

Flure:

“I’ll just show something simple.”

Flure:

“Not all stitching is done by hand, actually...”

Flure:

“For larger jobs, I use this sewing machine.”

Lato:

“It’s such a beautiful machine.”

Flure:

“Of course! I look after it well.”

Flure:

“First, we set up the belt...”

Miyaji:

“Belt?”

Flure:

“This machine works when you move this pedal up and down. The pitman rod moves the motor.”

Flure:

“The belt connects the pedal to the rod, which is how it moves.”

Muu:

“It sounds complicated.”

Flure:

“Right! That’s the belt ready...”

Flure:

“I’m going to test the pedal now.”

rattle rattle rattle

Flure:

“Look, the needle moves up and down.”

Flure:

“Next, we hook up the thread and the bobbin...”

Flure:

“...and then we set up the material.”

Flure:

“We step on the pedal gently...”

rattle rattle rattle

Muu:

“Amazing! It’s sewing it for you!”

Flure:

“I use this machine for most of my sewing.”

Flure:

“And, well... I use this to make clothes for my dolls.”

Choices:

“You look really excited about it!”

“Thank you for teaching us.”

Flure:

“It’s a little embarrassing...”

Lato:

“Oh? What are you embarrassed about?”

Lato:

“Your doll is beautiful... I think you have an amazing hobby here.”

Lato:

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed by something so amazing.”

Flure:

“That’s... embarrassing too...”

Flure:

“Because... I know there are men that like dolls, but...”

Flure:

“Well... It’s not normal, is it?”

Flure:

“I don’t really like being seen as a spectacle.”

Choices:

“I see...”

Lato:

“You’re always worried about what other people think about you, aren’t you, Flure?”

Lato:

“That’s why you don’t want people to know too much about your interests.”

Flure:

“sigh... If you understand that, why did you show it to everyone?”

Choices:

“I don’t think it’s weird.”

“I think it’s okay to like whatever you like.”

Flure:

“Master...”

Flure:

“Haha. You’re so kind.”

Flure:

“Thank you.”

Miyaji:

“That’s enough chatting for today.”

Miyaji:

“Let’s take our time and prepare slowly for tomorrow.”

Miyaji:

“Okay, Flure?”

Flure:

“O-okay... Of course.”

Lato:

“I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

#悪魔執事と黒い猫 #devil butler with black cat #akuma shitsuji to kuroi neko #akuneko #event #story

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monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Holt the Witch’s Familiar; M Cat Familiar x F Human, NSFW Monster Match

Monster Match for @moonlightreetops: What I usually look for in a partner is someone that is the equivalent to bedrock personality wise. I need stability and understanding in some sort of way to make me feel secure in a relationship...I collect macabre trinkets and spend most of my time doing little creative projects. I watch scifi flix, anime and play DND so big geek vibes here

I was *determined* to give him the name of an actual, historical familiar, and I didn’t name him Vinegar Tom, so YOU’RE WELCOME. Also, I left a TON of Holt on the cutting room floor, so there will likely be a sequel to this down the road!

The doll had a particularly creepy face.

“Miss Claudette is from the mid-eighteen hundreds,” the female auctioneer read, “once belonging to a privileged little girl of the era, she is a magnificent model of the expectations of a typical Victorian lady.”

You bit your lip in anticipation as hands reached into the frame, turning the doll on her pedestal to show off the detailing on the dress; the creepy, painted bisque face forgotten.

You had no idea who he was—he never spoke, never stepped into the frame, never did anything other than manipulate the items at the behest of the sultry voiced woman in charge, but you’d be lying if you pretended he wasn’t the reason you kept tuning in week after week to their oddity auction, his lovely hands and the banter afterwards.

Long and white and sculpted, veins and tendons standing out in relief, his hands were their own work of art, like a living sculpture. The endlessly long fingers were tipped in equally lengthy nails, painted matte black and ending in lethal-looking points, you supposed calling them claws would likely be more accurate.

You wondered, not for the first time, if he were a werewolf, or some similar creature.

He wouldn’t have the nails all the time, you reminded yourself, thinking of what Kenzie had said. The chipper werewolf had been in your gaming group for several months, a welcome addition, for geeky clubs tended to be overrun with guys, and you’d become friendly with her almost immediately, bonding over a shared love of anime and crafting. You’d casually wondered aloud if werecreatures retained elements of their bestial side, like sharp claws, perhaps, but the freckle-faced young woman had quashed your supposition.

“Nope,” she’d announced cheerfully, seating herself at the gaming table. “Unless it’s like, the day of the change, maybe.”

You had no idea who or what he was, but conversing with him after the auction each week had become a bright spot in your weekend calendar.

It had started when you discovered the wonderful, weird world of oddities auctions run weekly on Instagram. You’d always had a penchant for the macabre and had amassed a nice little collection over the years, but now small businesses were hurting and you could enjoy oddity shopping from the comfort of your phone. You’d heard of the Cat & Crow but had never made the drive to the neighboring city to visit the shop in person, and were excited to see what they had to offer.

“Welcome everyone to the Cat & Crow, thanks for joining us today.”

The woman before the camera wore the uniform of every other social media witch you followed—trendy, artfully tattered black clothes, her raven-colored hair done up in a crown of braids and dreadlocks; her eyeliner expertly winged, tattoos that appeared to be tree branches reaching across her clavicle, with half a dozen rings on each hand.

“Winners, Holt will be contacting you directly at the auction’s end, please be ready with your method of payment. We’ve got a lot of unique items to get through today, so let's get started!”

It wasn’t until the third week you’d tuned in that you’d chatted with the mysterious Holt. You’d been outbid on several of the items you liked, but managed to snag two others, including a victorian poison ring, and he’d recognized your screen name.

Hello again! What were you the big winner of this week? Lot 23 and 47...the onyx and gold poison ring and the pocket-sized surgical tool set. Hmm! Big weekend plans?

You’d laughed aloud at your laptop, cheeks coloring despite the fact you were alone. Nothing nefarious as all that, I swear! Although my table game group had better stay on their toes tonight…

Oh fun! I used to belong to one of those before I moved. So what are you guys playing right now?

After that week, he asked after your game group at the end of every auction. You told him of the hours-long game of Catan, the entire month of Call of Cthulhu, the bickering session that had broken out over a game of Azule.

That sounds great actually. I need to start doing fun things again, since we’ve started the auctions I feel like I’m working 24/7.

You bit your lip now, thinking of his words from the previous week.

After the creepy doll had been some Templar altar piece, a hand of glory with only one candle remaining, and a terrifying victorian wind-up toy, and the only thing to which you’d paid attention was his hands and his sharp claws, shifting things around as the witchy-looking woman spoke.

You’d realized your shopping habit had become more expensive than you’d initially counted on, and that for the last several weeks you were truly only bidding on items as a way to talk to him after the auction’s close. Just ask him. You don’t need to buy anything today, you don’t even like the stuff! Just take a deep breath and do it. Deciding the voice in your head was right, you did as it advised, sucking in a breath and leaning over your keyboard before you changed your mind.

Hi! Not a winner this week, nothing really caught my eye. You swallowed hard, pushing on. I wanted to invite you to join our group sometime! We meet every Saturday at the Melted Meeple, so tonight, lol! You grimaced at yourself, but persevered. We’re just playing CAH right now, but there’s talk of a D&D campaign starting up. The more the merrier!

You waited a minute, then two, before pushing yourself up from the desk. If he didn’t respond, it wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself. He was working, after all, and you really did need to get ready to go meet your friends that evening. Hair fluffed, clothes changed, the handful of dishes you’d left in the sink washed and put away...you went back to your laptop just before you needed to get going, holding your breath as you looked at the screen.

That sounds great! I have to finish things up here, but hopefully I won’t be too late. This will be fun, I feel like we’re old friends at this point!

You told yourself the bounce in your step as you left was simply because it was a nice evening, that you were happy to spend time with your friends and nothing more. That’s it. Just another normal night.

“So what are you going to do?” you asked him for the dozenth time that evening, before biting into a crust of melty cheese, your eyes rolling back in bliss. The Melted Meeple specialized in gaming and grilled cheese, and they excelled at both.

Holt shrugged, spearing a sweet potato fry. He was a finicky eater, carefully cutting things with a knife and fork, scrutinizing the menu every week as though it were the first time he’d seen it, before ordering the exact same thing. He took his time with things and could not be rushed—spearing his fries one at a time, swirling the straw in his drink until the ice had all but melted into the alcohol—and as a result, the two of you spent more time tucked away at your own little table than you did playing the group’s game, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were smitten.

You’d been a nervous wreck that first night, raising your head anxiously every time the Meeple’s great doors were pulled open, but you did your best to hide it from your friends. You were used to being the steady one, after all, the one who gave advice and provided a ready shoulder for the whole group...you didn’t begrudge your friends their drama and woes, but it made it hard when you had your own anxieties and nowhere to turn.

Kenzie had dropped into the seat next to you, had been going on about the latest disaster with her boyfriend when her head had snapped up, nose wrinkled.

“Ugh, cat. It’s too close to the moon to deal with smelling that.”

You hadn’t noticed the door pulling open, and weren’t entirely sure how he’d managed to do it silently, but a man who’d not been standing before the entrance a moment earlier had stood there then, his citron-green cat eyes scanning the room hesitantly. You’d known it was him instantly.

Thick raven-colored hair and bone-white skin, slim black jeans and a black leather jacket atop a blood red shirt, he was a fitting counterpart to the witch who ran the oddity auction. One of his thick, arched black brows had cocked hopefully when they landed on you staring at him, and you raised a hesitant hand in greeting, smiling when his lips split, revealing a row of blinding white teeth. You took note of the long, hooked incisors in his smile.

“Is he a werecat?” you’d hissed to Kenzie as he made his way across the huge room.

She’d sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose again. “No. Just...just a cat. I don’t get it. I’m going to grab a drink before the next game starts, you want anything?”

He was a familiar, you’d learned. A witch’s familiar, a sleek black cat when he wasn’t the handsome, slightly goth-looking man sitting across from you. His witch, the auctioneer, Arabeth the mistress of Crows—“Bethany,” he’d corrected flatly, rolling his eyes—was his business partner and co-owner of the Cat & Crow, a naturally gifted witch with no direction or commitment to the craft, according to him.

“Let me tell you, working in retail was not a career ambition for me,” he’d laughed that first night, as the two of you sat at your own small table away from the group, sharing a basket of fries before joining the game. “But the shop is successful and it keeps me busy, since she’s all but abandoned her path.”

By the end of the night, your stomach had been a riot of butterflies. He was stable and confident, a sharp departure from the majority of your friend group, you’d realized. Stable and confident, and ridiculously good looking. You’d thought he was of a middling height when you’d been seated, but he towered over you, engulfing you in a hug at the evening’s end.

“This was a lot of fun, thanks for inviting me!”

“Every Saturday,” you replied breathlessly, trying to restrain yourself from burying your face against his solid chest. You didn’t know what Kenzie was talking about, he didn’t smell like a cat at all—he smelled like black musk and pine, making you think of a dark forest on an autumn night, masculine and sexual…“I hope you’ll join us again!”

“If you’ll be here, I definitely will,” he’d said, giving you another one of those sharp-edged smiles, his eyes glowing on the dark street.

That had been over a month ago, and you were head-over heels in your crush.

He’d joined you every Saturday, and it had become your custom to eat together, away from the group before joining in whatever game was starting. When both Kenzie and another friend had flaked on going furniture shopping with you, he’d taken their place, doing the heavy lifting, putting together a bookcase, and paying for dinner afterwards, despite your insistence to the contrary. It was a revelation, having someone there to hear your problems, and you were happy to do the same, whenever he came in grumbling about his deteriorating relationship with his witch.

When your gaming group began planning its Dungeons and Dragons campaign at last, you discovered Holt had never played and wasn’t familiar with any of the rules.

“First we have to decide your character,” you explained, pushing a character sheet across the table. “Race, attributions, what you’d like your strengths to be…”

“Tell me again why I can’t be a bard who’s also a sorcerer.”

“You can cast spells as a bard! We’ve been through this!”

“I want to be sneaky and magical and have everyone love me.”

You’d come to the Cat & Crow once, popping in unannounced, and had seen him in his cat form. Sleek and sinuous, jet black with bright green eyes, the black cat had rubbed up against your ankles as you’d stood there, after being greeted by the friendly-seeming witch, mewling determinedly before darting off into the back room. Holt had come breezing out a moment later, announcing to Bethany that you were going out for sushi and would be back in an hour.

“So basically you just want to play yourself,” you laughed, receiving a not-at-all angelic smile in return.

It was the first grownup relationship you’d ever had, you’d realized with a start that evening. You loved your friends and wouldn’t change a thing about them, but it was nice not playing therapist, having a solid give-and-take of support. Your first real adult relationship, and it’s completely one sided. Brava.

Still, you thought, when he slinked through the Melted Meeple’s doors that night, dropping into a chair gracefully and announcing he was officially a free agent familiar, you were glad for the opportunity to listen, knowing he’d be just as present and solid for you.

He shrugged at your repeated question. “Go to the agency on Monday, file for a new witch, I guess.”

“Does...does that mean you’ll have to move? What if they pair you with a witch on the other side of the world? What about the shop?”

His laugh was a dark curl, full of mirth. “Nothing archaic like that. This is where I live, the shop is my day job. We’re still business partners, but she’s quitting the craft entirely and I don’t have that luxury. The magic world is ninety percent bureaucracy and paperwork, it’ll probably be at least a year before they even get to my file.”

“Oh, that’s-that’s good,” you sighed in relief, not wanting to contemplate what would happen if he had to move away. “Good! You’ll have more free time now!”

Holt’s smile was wide, the light overhead winking off his fangs as leaned across the table. “And I know just who I’m going to spend it with,” he purred, before catching your lips with his own.

You hadn’t really known what to expect from the home of a familiar—a part of you was expecting some gothic lair with dripping candles and some ancient book of dark spellwork on a pedestal—but a completely average garden-level apartment on a tight lane of historic brownstones had not been it. The neighborhood was trendy: full of crowded little bistros with packed, street-side patios and bars boasting craft cocktails on swirling chalk signs outside their doors. You didn’t mind an occasional foray into adventure, but you couldn’t imagine living somewhere so noisy and bustling.

“Here we are,” Holt announced, tugging your hand and carefully leading you down the short stairwell in front of the dark-bricked building. “The neighborhood is great, but I love my little dungeon.”

You understood his meaning the moment the door closed behind you. The apartment was small but tidy, with plush-looking furniture and towering bookshelves, each crammed with curios, macabre trinkets and gimcrack. The street-level windows did little to illuminate the space, giving it a dim, cloistered feeling, amplified by the red-shaded lamps on either side of the sofa.

Long-fingered hands encircled your waist, claws dragging lightly over your stomach, sending a shiver up your spine and reminding you remembered why you were here. You were terribly aware of your own heartbeat when warm lips pressed to the back of your neck, hot breath and the glance of fangs moving over your delicate skin, and your head tilted on its own accord, giving him better access.

“It looks like a bordello in this place,” you mused, laughing when you felt his outraged gasp against your shoulder.

“Slander!” he exclaimed, the press of his hot tongue making your back arch, “calumny and lies. I demand restitution.”

It had been two weeks since he’d kissed you over your grilled cheese sandwich, two weeks of making out like teenagers and groping each other on the street corner every Saturday, two weeks of thinking about him every night, waking heated and flushed in your bed with an ache between your thighs and slick coating your fingers, and tonight you’d decided enough was enough.

He was steady and confident and reliable, but you’d noticed that he deferred to you in almost every matter. If you asked his opinion, he gave it; if you told him he was in charge of the evening’s plans, he already had one, but he let you control the direction of things rather than steamrolling you, and you wondered if it was something he was compelled to do as a familiar. You’ve got to be the one who makes the first move, you realized. Then he’ll take over and you can stop panicking.

“I think,” you murmured into his ear that night, as you sat on the edge of the gaming table, waiting to join in on the next round, “you should show me your apartment tonight, and we can work on your rolls.” The D&D campaign had started, and two sessions in the entire campaign had been entirely waylaid by a troublesome tiefling character who refused to follow the group’s initiative, and Holt had been smug that he’d not been the new player to cause problems.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, green eyes flashing, “we can do other things while we’re there.”

The apartment was dark, but somehow you were led to the bedroom without tripping over anything, the bedding beneath you cool and thick as Holt pressed you to your back. His eyes were glowing green orbs, rapidly growing closer until your lips were captured by his own, the kiss breaking off abruptly when he leaned over your body to turn on the bedside lamp.

“What do I need to roll for seduction?”

The bed rocked as he reached back from where he straddled your body, pulling off your sandals and sending them sailing across the room. “I’m serious!” he insisted when you laughed again. “This is a serious game, remember? I don’t want to be the one who gets the whole party kicked out of a tavern.”

“Well, if you’re serious,” you began, breath hitching as your top was pushed up your body, claws dragging over the newly-exposed skin, “then you should know you can’t actually roll seduction, it’s not a skill.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

You couldn't find fault in his words as your bra was deftly unhooked and pulled away, the heat of his mouth closing over the tip of your breast before you had a chance to be chilled. The tips of his clawed hand continued to move in soft patterns over your side as his tongue worked, teasing your nipple before sucking, biting ever-so-gently before releasing it with a wet pop.

“Are you sure I can’t roll seduction? I am a magical bard, after all.”

“Nope,” you corrected on a gasp. His mouth had moved to your other breast, giving it the same treatment until both nipples were pebbled and aching. “Seduction isn’t a skill. You can roll for deception, if you have ulterior motives.”

“Absolutely not. There you go again with the slander. What about...persuasion? Can I roll persuasion as a means of seduction?”

You unbuttoned the dark shirt he wore as he spoke, pushing apart the fabric to reveal the long, lithe shape of him above you. Broad shouldered but slender, Holt possessed none of the bulk the werewolf you’d gone out with a few times last year had. Tightly muscled and well-defined, your own clawless fingers moved down his chest, following the trail of dark hair down the hard plane of his stomach until you reached the thick bulge at the front of his jeans. The noise that emitted from his throat as you stroked the hard shape of him was very nearly a purr, and you smiled hugely, deciding to let him do his best.

“Sure, why not,” you smiled, pulling open his belt. “But I might want a perception check. Gotta check out your staff of persuasion first, make sure its on the up and up.”

You let out an undignified squeak when your skirt and knickers were pulled down as he rose, shucking his jeans before climbing over your body slowly, and you were clearly able to picture him as the giant, stalking cat you knew he occasionally was.

The soft drag of his claws over your thighs made you gasp, legs falling open, and the knuckle that pressed into your folds found you slick and eager.

“I’m glad you invited me to join the group,” he purred against your lips, sharp teeth catching them gently in a kiss. “Even if I don’t know any of the rules.”

The hard press of his erection was a molten heat against your hip and you shuddered out a breath, wanting to take him in hand but enjoying the press of his body against yours too much to force him to move. “I-I am too.”

Between your legs, his hand was buried against your sex. His sharp claws were tucked back, a finger on either side of your clit, knuckles kneading into the sensitive flesh until your hips were bucking upward to meet his hand, kneading and rolling, over and over until you were seeing stars. Pressure built behind your navel with every roll over the exposed bud of flesh, and you keened.

“I’m still having fun,” Holt went on, mouth stretching into a wide Cheshire cat-like smile, “and isn’t that the point of a game?”

The band of pressure snapped and you arched against him as throb after throb of pleasure pulsed through you. Your thighs tightened around his wrist, trapping his hand in place, and he hummed in amusement, fingers still moving as you gasped and shook, his lips pressing to yours lightly when you trembled with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I’d like to seduce you, please,” he purred, waggling his dark eyebrows. “I’m being as persuasive as possible.”

His cock was still hot when you wrapped a hand around it, giving his shaft a firm pump, dragging upwards until your fingers reached his swollen head. “You really are a big cat,” you observed when the repeated motion drew a vibrating rumble from his chest, before edging closer to the foot of the bed. His smart-assed reply was lost to another rumble when you licked a broad stripe over his exposed head, laving your tongue over the bead of moisture there.

There were several rings of nodules at the base of his head, you realized, mimicking the sharp barbs he might possess in his cat form, and you wondered how they would feel inside of you. The sharp points of his nails dragged through your hair as you sucked him into your mouth, swirling your tongue before lowering your head down his shaft, bobbing your head several times before his clawed hands were tugging you upwards.

You were reminded of his speed on the day the black cat in the shop had gone darting off to the back room in a blink of an eye when he flipped you, you cheek pressed to the mattress as he kissed up your spine, raising your hips. You felt the leaking tip of his cockhead press to your slick folds, sliding up and down before finally pushing into you, hilting himself in one thrust.

You hadn’t intended on finding a relationship, only some fun new additions to your curio shelf, you thought as has pumped into you, those textured nodules dragging deliciously over your inner walls. Claws dragged over your skin as you clenched around him, unable to stop the moan which broke from your mouth. You hadn’t been looking for a relationship, but one had found you anyway.

When his hand found its way back between your thighs, you were lost. Already gasping with every thrust of his textured cock, as soon as the rough pads of his fingers began circling your clit, you felt your tentative control slip, your core clenching and spasming around him before you were filled with heat, his rumbling purr vibrating against you as he came.

The comforter was thick and soft when he pulled it over you, once he’d withdrawn and quickly cleaned you up. Thick and soft and incredibly warm, snuggled against his chest.

“I have a confession to make.” You craned your neck up to find Holt peering down, one of his thick, dark brows cocked curiously. “You can’t actually play persuasion or deception against another player’s character. Everyone has their own freewill and agency, it doesn’t matter how silver-tongued the party’s bard is.”

“Do you mean to tell me I wasted a perfectly good persuasion play?”

“It was unnecessary but not without merit!” you yelped as he flipped you to your back, giving you his best glower as he straddled your hips. “You’ve convinced me!”

“Oh, just you wait. I am going to cast so many spells on you once once we finally get out of the bloody tavern.”

The bed, you realized, had begun to levitate, and now hung suspended in the air as you squealed. He really was a magical, sneaky bard.

“You can’t do that either,” you laughed after the bed dropped, shaking the walls. “No spells on teammates.”

“There are too many rules to this game,” he griped, pressing his cheek to your breast. You wrapped your arms around him, pushing your fingers through his thick hair. Give and take. Solid for each other.

“You have plenty of time to learn.”

His purr vibrated against you before he wriggled free from your arms to fix the blanket, pulling you against him as he resettled. “It’s a good thing I have an excellent teacher.”

#monsterbait writes #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x reader #m monster x female reader #monster x human #monster match #monster matchmaker #witch's familiar #black cat

468 notes · View notes

dolgelo · 5 years

Note

😘 phbbbbttttt

he leans forward, grabbing very delicately of her waist as if he’s scared she’s about to break under his touch, like an antique bisque doll – nothing further from reality, in truth. trepidation has taken over her mind already and leaves her hanging, wondering among the softness around her how it’ll all go and how it’ll all end too. nothing but his visage occupies her sight, which is fine by Mitsuru, somehow – that’s what the voice tells her. and she smiles, accommodating almost, cupping his pale cheek in her hand and blinking fast. the voice has told her to give in, and so must have been for him too - because they do not need words to move and understand each other even there, even now.

while she wonders how does she appear to him, laying on the unknown bed with her clothes still, her uniform being almost to tight now – she really needs that shower and peace, her thumb strokes his cheek. yet, it feels quite wrong, that is not what the voice tells her to do. she’d need a moment, she’d excuse herself soon and make a run for the bathroom, alone. she’d not take much, she never did - don’t people say absence made a heart grow fonder ? even a small shower would do, in their case. they have all the time in the world, the voice assured her they truly do. and she can tell by a glance he knows as well, his eyes generally never lie.

the mattress has sunk a bit when he had joined her, a detail she has barely noticed. it feels strange to have him so close, she can almost feel him breathe on her cleavage and neck, heavier than usual – through the fabric to her skin, that while covered in her blouse do feel slightly hot. cold water, cold water. fast, fast. to convey such urge with a glance should have been way more difficult. she closes her eyes, and the voice speaks again, clearer and more insistent this time around.

Such is my wish: let your desire free from your shackles…

how does the voice know that ? she does not mind much that one of her innermost secrets and longings could be now clear to the boy – now when so close. he is an open book for the girl too, now, and the flush of his cheeks is there to confirm it. she gently pinches his chin, and a second later a sense of fulfilment pervades her as she feels his lips over hers. the eyes she has just opened a moment ago shut again, his hand still on her waist.

Pleasure is what you seek… you stand on the doorway of bliss…

chaste as a small spring blossom, the kiss barely presses against her. the newborn sentiment in her chest takes the best of her, as the voice numbs her reason and pushes for instinct to take the lead. he has been almost towering over her, but that changes the moment she gently props her up from the round mattress, to meet his kiss. bliss… ? her lips slightly part in response, and he follows. the kiss continues, just like the voice suggests. no, it commands. the uniform is definitely way out of place now– now, with him being more vehement. what if–

Embrace your desire, you can’t deny your instincts…

one of her red nails presses gently against his throat, like a knife to the jugular as she stops the contact. there’s red lipstick on his mouth. she pants, once. he does not seem puzzled, he almost looks transfixed. she does too, after a moment of rational lucidity. she then nudges with a smirk at the black ribbon at his collar - she did not feel like undoing his clothes herself, the voice almost makes her feel too tired to even talk, think or move - and then slips from under him, fast, away - to stands up and head to the bathroom. cold, cold, where is it ?

You can’t deny–

« I need a shower, I’ll be quick. Then we can continue… »

#sabazio #[ usagi: PBBBBBBBTTTTTT ]#(( ic ;; ʷᶤᵗᶰᵉˢˢᶤᶰᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵍʳᵃᶜᵉᶠᵘˡ ᵉˣᵉᶜᵘᵗᶤᵒᶰ ))#[ the idea behind this is that even The Lovers is ashamed of them ]#[ akimitsu is gonna ruin that shadows whole career ]#[ youre still in kiss day ! here its already 7 july shirakawa day #and my mind went Why not both #anyway DONT READ THIS ]#(( ask ;; ʷʰᵉᶰ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵈᶤˢᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗˢ ))#[ the fact is teen akimitsu would never kiss and we know it so this is the compromise ]

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freakscircus · 5 years

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Hi, I don’t mean to bother you but I was wondering where you got that doll in one of the posts you made...? The doll is unclothed in the picture and she’s laying against a black background, the one with the blonde hair and bangs. I’d love one just like her if not something similar. Thank you 🖤

hm... i’ve posted a ton of dolls, 99% of which aren’t mine. i wish i could help more! if it’s a bisque, celluloid, composition, or chalkware doll you could probably get a similar one on rubylane.

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my-heart-in-his-teeth · 5 years

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The Devil You Know: Part One (of 4)

Summary: A follow up to Mischief and the Maiden , Loki interferes with Elaina in the best ways. Contains both silliness and smut, consider yourself warned on both counts.

Author’s Note: I’m tagging those who took the time to write kind comments on my last work because they were awesome enough to do so and that’s what really encouraged me to write this one. I would’ve responded to each of them, but I can’t do so as THIS blog and it seems weird to do so as my completely unrelated main blog. Anyway, thank you!!

Should Tumblr Implode: I’m also here at : https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_heart_in_his_teeth/works

The party droned on for what felt like days.

Her tolerance for this amount of people had peaked and fallen so long ago that she couldn’t even remember when she began feeling plastic, nodding and smiling her way through conversations she couldn’t care less about with people she barely knew. Every time she escaped from one cluster of people, she was shepherded into another.

She had gotten comfortable with being uncomfortable in crowds, but this one was wearing her thin. The men all a matching set in tailcoats and ties, slicked back hair and martinis while the women shimmered in sequined dresses, jewels sparkling off their arms and spilling down their necks in long strings- even glittering from the feather adornments in their bobbed hair.

She was suddenly very aware of how underdressed she was. Glancing down at her faded black lounge pants and thin t-shirt which was altered so that it was missing the sleeves and open at the sides, allowing a view of her lace bralette beneath it, she crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously and backed away, almost bumping into an enormous champagne fountain.

“Jesus!” She gasped, looking up at the towering monstrosity flowing the fizzy drink down from a giant bottle a couple of hundred glasses up. The opulence of the people mirrored the endless ballroom they were in; so much gold on the white clothed tables and the sconces, while giant crystal chandeliers twinkled from above. She felt like an extra in The Great Gatsby.

Or The Shining.

Honestly, she didn’t care which as long as she could find the exit to the place. She excused herself awkwardly, dodging protesting arms and walking with purpose toward the other side of the vast room where she hoped the door was. Finally, she spotted a large archway above the growing sea of people, but her relief was short lived when she saw another lavish hall beyond it.

Her frustration fueled her and she pushed on. At last she saw a great, gilded double door at the top of an impossibly grand staircase. She walked faster, no longer caring how frantic she looked. She would make her apologies to...whoever tomorrow. Why couldn’t she remember whose party this was? And why had she agreed to come? She could figure that out tomorrow as well, for now all she cared about was the freedom just a hundred stairs away.

A hand lightly touched her shoulder and she glanced behind her to see the gentle, smiling face of Patrick Stewart. Suddenly it hit her, it was HIS party. She couldn’t have said no to Patrick Stewart, of course. Seeing that he was wearing his Star Trek uniform made her regret her outfit even more.

“Elaina! “ He said in his lovely British voice. “I’m so happy you were able to come. You did bring the artifact of course. I thought we could pass it around while you give the eulogy.”

She hadn’t remembered any artifact and had somehow not realized she was meant to give a eulogy or even who it was for. “ I....” she stammered. “I just need to get it from my car. She lied. She lied to PStew! But she urgently needed to be outside. Being outside would surely clear her head.

“Excellent!” He held her hand. His skin was very soft. “I cannot wait to hear of how you acquired this one. It is simply fascinating to me how you have been able to find all of these wonderful treasures. You must truly have a gift”

“Oh, I’m just very lucky.” She clasped her hand over his and wished she could remember how their friendship came to be, but her brain seemed to be shrinking into confusion by the second and she could only hope that no one noticed.

She knew she had to pretend everything was fine until she could figure this out, but she hoped he would understand if she ended up running away into the night screaming instead of giving a speech she hadn’t prepared to a crowd of what had to be hundreds of people. “You’ll just have to excuse me, while I pop outside to get it...”

“Of course!” He beamed. “Ah, but first I would love to introduce you to some friends of mine.” He nodded over her shoulder and she turned to see Benedict Cumberbatch walking up to them, a meek Martin Freeman on his arm looking adoringly up at his face.

A brief, but fierce, battle waged inside her before she firmly but politely said no and excused herself again. If she delved into whatever that was about, she knew she would never leave. She continued up the stairs that seemed to increase in number the closer she got to the top, running now, she pushed herself faster until finally she pushed the heavy door open and bolted outside, not stopping until she got to the street.

The cool night air felt good on her skin and now she focused on getting home. She didn’t remember if she’d brought her car. Wait...that’s right, she didn’t even OWN a car. Ahead, she saw a bus stop. Good enough. After sitting on the bench for a second, she realized that she had no clue where she was. Was it New York? It felt too foreign. She traveled so often now it was hard to keep up. Hopefully the bus driver could help her.

As soon as she had that thought she saw headlights in the distance. They were moving strangely, instead of steady and straight they sort of hopped. The reason for that was revealed when the thing came into view. It was a Catbus. It’s eyes were the headlights and when it stopped, the orange furry doors opened to reveal the soft seats inside of its body.

Elaina hesitated and the cat’s Cheshire smiling face turned towards her. She knew her Ghibli and that this bus could take her anywhere, but she thought better of it. “Uh, that’s okay. Nevermind. ” She told it. “I think I'll walk.” The Catbus meowed indifferently and continued on its way.

“Well now that,” A velvet voice spoke from beside her. “Was truly...special.”

She looked up at the figure that had stepped into view beside her. Pale and perfect with dark hair combed back and curling up slightly just above his shoulders. His eyebrows were raised toward the direction of the Catbus.

“I know someone who travels by cat- albeit in a comparatively mundane fashion.... ” He trailed off, then turned to her with a warm smile that reached his eyes and crinkled them at the corners. “Hello, Elaina.”

“Loki.” She said softly. Recognition was like a balm for her troubled head, soothing her back to her senses and lifting her heart in an instant.

She wanted to ask him if he was really there and not just another part of her yearning, stress- drunk subconscious, but she’d asked him that often enough over the years to know that he would never give her a straight answer. Even if he did, she could never really believe it.

“You know,” her own smile spread across her face. “When you said I’d dream about you, I thought the dreams would be more....”

“Enjoyable?” He turned to the grim, gray, building she’d just fled. It had not a single window and was so tall that the top of it disappeared into the night clouds. “But, come now.” He waved his hand toward it and the city street they stood on and shook his head. “You know this is not me.”

“No.” She sighed. “This is the sort of thing my asshole brain comes up with.”

“Well then, let’s slip into someplace a bit more comfortable.”

With that he took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face a couple of matching red, plush couches divided by a black lacquered coffee table inlaid with mother of pearl garden scene. A beautiful Persian rug sat on top of the hardwood floors of the seating area and photographs in various sized frames tastefully covered deep blue walls, dimly lit by the lights that ran along the ceiling.

I guess it doesn’t get much more comfortable than my own house, she thought. She had taken care to fill her home with things that had a story or meaning that was in some way personal to her so that whenever she returned to it after a long journey she would be wrapped in the stable familiarity of it all. Her home was very much her sanctuary.

“This wasn’t here before.” Loki was peering at the Klimt painting above the fireplace. “Who are these people?”

It was an unusual sight- he clad in a black high collared shirt, open at the neck in the shape of a V and over that a strange sort of jacket made of interwoven black leather and green cloth that reached down to his boots. Though not wearing a crown, he still looked every bit a mythological prince standing so casually in her in her living room.

“Umm, well I’m not sure actually.” She wondered if it had registered to him that it had been two years since he was last here. “It was painted about a hundred years before I was born. The image has very much has resonated with me lately. I even have this weird connection to the artist.”

“I see. And what “weird” connection do you have to a presumably dead artist?”

“Oh, I found an old portfolio of his sketches hidden in the pages of this coffee big table art book that my grandmother had.” She studied his profile carefully as she spoke looking for any reaction. “I mean, they were stamped with his signature and everything. It was a nearly impossible find, but quickly authenticated. “

His lips twitched upwards and he kept his eyes on the painting. “Hmm. How lucky.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve come into quite a bit of such “luck” over the last few years. ...since meeting you actually.” She added pointedly. “You know, I’ll buy a doll at a flea market in France that will turn out to be an antique Bisque or I’ll find a used book from a tiny shop in Italy that ends being a first edition Yeats- things like that.”

“Those things sound like they are probably very valuable to Midgardians.” He shrugged. “One should hope you were able to find some use for them.””

She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled knowingly at the floor. “And to think some guys just buy a girl flowers.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. This painting,” he said, changing the subject. “What about it so captured your attention, I wonder?”

“Well, it’s called ’Love’- did...did you just roll your eyes?”

His mouth smoothed out of its grin quickly. “Not at all.”

Each time he’d come to her, no matter how much time had passed, there wasn’t the awkwardness that often happens when lovers meet again. No pretending to be indifferent to their own feelings, no worrying how they might seem to each other or wondering where things might go this time. Everything seemed just as it had been that first night together, in a cabin that wasn’t really a cabin in a realm far, far away. For her part, she had no delusions about what may come of the time they spent together, she was just glad for it.

She paused to contemplate the couple frozen in the painting, forever locked in an embrace that would outlive them. The woman’s hand gripped at the man, her head upturned, eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss that would never come. Or perhaps the kiss was done and the embrace was at its end.

The man’s eyes were closed as well, but she thought he had a melancholy look to him. It seemed he could either be coming or going from her. There seemed to be a silent battle raging within each of them while a host of spirits looked on, perhaps amused at their fate.

“Does she love him?” He asked, circling behind her.

“Yes, that I’m certain of.”

“And do you think that wise?” His mouth was at her ear.

Without hesitation she answered. “No.”

His hand wrapped over hers and he led her to one of the couches, pulling her down into his lap as he sat. She could smell the leather of his clothes and beneath that the familiar heady scent of his skin. “Correct.” His fingers traced down her jawline stopping at her chin. “Sentimentality often leads to foolish choices.”

His eyes rested on her lips thoughtfully for a moment before he deftly took her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth cool on hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, fingers disappearing into the softness of his hair.

For a blissful moment there was nothing else in the world but that kiss, then he gently pulled back, gazing at her with contented green eyes. “You have been in love, Elaina.” His elbow folded on the back of the couch, his curled fist providing a rest for his head. “I needn’t warn you of that gnawing thing within your heart that has you so vexed.”

She felt her cheeks redden. It didn’t surprise her that he knew of her life, she sometimes comforted herself with the idea that he was maybe looking in at her from his castle in a magical floating city, but other times she rather hoped he wasn’t. Like the last year.

“We don’t get to choose about falling in love. It just happens.” She could hear the regret in her own voice and hated it. “At least that’s how it is for we Midgardians.”

“It’s all about control, my dear.” His hand rested on her hip. “There’s always something you can control even within the uncontrollable. If you feel an overpowering emotion, you can channel that power into something more...beneficial.”

“Such as?”

“Anything. A more personal passion. Art. Music. Jogging? Is that what it’s called? When you run pointlessly long and slow to get to nowhere? The point is that you can bask in the pleasurable aspect of the feeling, but assign the power of the chaos such a strong emotion creates to something else.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That way your mind can remain clear and no one unworthy will have power over you.”

She clasped his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. There had been a man she had loved who was everything she wasn’t. Gregarious, charming, and successful, he just always seemed to have it together with never a hair out of place. Even his condo was constantly immaculate. He also was painfully gorgeous. And he actually loved her. Until he inexplicably didn’t.

She winced at the memory.

“I think you over- estimate my worth.” She said quietly.

He clicked his tongue and looked almost offended. “I do no such thing.” He said sharply. “You would do well to remember that. Tell me, who is this man would make you feel beneath him- you who has known the touch and favor of a god?”

“I don’t-I know I’m not beneath him...” she was flustered and now embarrassed. Having been the lover of the God of Mischief was one hell of a confidence boost, but she was never going to have the conceit that might have earned her. She doubted Loki could understand what it was like to be set aside by someone you cherished, to have to question what about you had made them decide you were not what they wanted.

“Perhaps,” he half smiled and traced his fingers over the patterns of lace on the sides of her bralette “You need a reminder.”

She held her breath, remembering every bit of what his masterful touch could do to her. There was a playful spark in his eyes for a just a moment before he kissed her again, this time firmly but briefly, then brought her hand to his lips and planted a kiss there as well.

“Soon.” He said with a wink and before she could question what he meant his face had dissolved into an unpleasant glow of light.

~~~

@roonyxx @carydorse @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @starscreamloki @glitt3rgaz3 @annievvv7 @holykryptonitekitten @silver-tongue-trickster

#loki #tom hiddleston #fanfiction #marvel #loki fanfic #writing #loki x ofc #cross posted

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shrinerussia46 · 2 years

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Realistic Dolls

Have you ever wondered if there will be some toys that will help in reducing... Often accompanied by a head full of curlers and our favourite fluffy slippers. I’m showcasing them at a vintage fashion show, I never fail to get comments from ladies who remember having them as part of their everyday wardrobe. They most certainly did wear them to bed, and quite often they remark on collecting them as part of their honeymoon trousseau. May seem a frivolous and impractical piece of nightwear to today’s fleecy PJ and sloppy T-shirt wearing generation. Great for children and the best choice for adoption. Sixteen year old Lilly didn’t expect this to happen to her when she accepted a ride from her Teacher Rick. Unfortunately instead of dropping her off at home, he had other ideas and locked her away in his cabin. When Lilly did escape from the cabin, I was literally on the edge of my seat. Even though I knew she was going to get away, I still sat there thinking “Get out Lilly, Run!!!!! Unfortunately, the fame went to Mary's head in a way that made her ratings hungry and a spoiled little brat. Recent research has also shown caring for one of these little like like dolls helps bring joy to memory care individuals living with Alzheimer's or dementia. Ultimately, these adorable plush dolls are exactly what you’re looking for in a snuggle buddy. Also they’re relatively inexpensive, so if they get wrecked they’re easily replaceable. This doll is very reasonably-priced considering the features you get with it. With the increase in the technological era, stuff and soft toys are... Manicured nails and opening of the nose holes are other details that are added during this process. Baby dolls have stood the test of time…and with good reason! A lot of what they see is a parent or care giver taking care of a younger sibling or baby. Speaking of what comes naturally… Play is the natural, organic way to learn. In fact, because play often involves using both sides of the body—developing bilateral coordination—and the brain, it’s a holistic activity. Dressed in pink plush, this baby is the perfect first doll for any little one.

It has very soft fleece hair with embroidered facial properties.

This doll also comes with the soap shampoo, dish, container, bathrobe, hoodie and loofah sponge.

Captured on Sadie you will find the most precious baby facial expression, guaranteed to put a smile on your face time after time.

Beautiful soft touch personalised rag doll with pretty floral dress.

All items are sold AS IS, WHERE IS, with NO WARRANTY expressed or implied by the lot number affixed to the item. This sale is to the business community as equipment and inventory without any implied or expressed warranty. Descriptions are believed to be accurate but not guaranteed. If you’re looking for a plastic baby, this one is made from non-scented, BPA free, safety tested vinyl, and it’s water-friendly in case your kid wants to give their new baby a bath. This cute baby doll will definitely draw your attention. This girl doll, is made up of high-quality silicone vinyl, which makes her an easy choice for your baby. https://www.cybo.com/US-biz/best-reviews-tips_10

Otarddolls Soft Vinyl Silicone Reborn Doll

Shipments to Alaska, Hawaii, or Puerto Rico may exceed normal delivery times. If the hair is a little messy, please use the special wig comb to take care of it gently. According to the doll size, The doll will come with clothes. There are adorable Disney plushies and beautiful princesses just waiting to be discovered at your local B&M.

Antique Bisque Head & Composition German Japan Baby Doll "tlc"

As debutante balls took over and the traditions of Mardi Gras changed, the baby dolls faded for decades. However, after Hurricane Katrina, a new group honoring the women called the 504 Eloquent Baby Dolls of New Orleans formed. This is the newest group of baby dolls, as others in existence include the Gold Digger Baby Dolls, the Treme Million Dollar Baby Dolls and the Ernie K-Doe Baby Dolls. Dolls have traditionally been made as crude, rudimentary playthings as well as with elaborate, artful design. Red t-shirt and checkered overalls are attached to each other making a layered romper for a complete outfit. This doll wears a white sleeper with pastel striped trim, and matching sleep cap. The pink and white, striped, knit pants has pink, mini polka dot binding at the ankles and an elastic waistband. The shirt, pink textured knit with princess seams and self-binding, has a pink and white striped yoke and sleeves. The age recommendation from the manufacturer is three and up, but there are no safety hazards to note. The Lalaloopsy Babies are a product of The Little Tikes Company. The Lee Middleton® Doll is a product of the Lee Middleton® Company. The Little Mommy® Baby Doll, Little Mommy® Sweet As Me™ and Little Mommy® Real Loving Baby Dolls are products of Fisher-Price®. The Madame Alexander® Huggums dolls are products of the The Alexander Doll Company, Inc. The My Twinn® doll is a product of the My Twinn® Company. The Unbelievably Soft Baby™ dolls are products of the Goldberger Doll Mfg.

#Dolls & Accessories

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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TV Anime My Dress-Up Darling 1st PV Announces Its January 2022 Premiere Date, Two Main VAs

The official website for the forthcoming TV anime adaptation of Shinichi Fukuda's cosplay-themed rom-com manga Sono Bisque Doll wa Koi wo Suru (The Bisque Doll Fells in Love) / My Dress-Up Darling has posted a 70-second first PV to announce its premiere date of January 2022 and two main voice cast members.

Hina Suguta (Toko Kirigaya in BanG Dream!) is cast as the main heroine Marin Kitagawa, who has always wanted to cosplay but has never been able to make a costume, while Shoya Ishige (Yun Arikawa in Godzilla Singular Point) plays the male protagonist Wakana Gojo, a first-year high school boy with a passion to become "Kashirashi" (craftsman of the heads for traditional hina dolls) who is asked to make cosplay costumes for Marin.

1st PV:

youtube

＼　　\\　　　　　　⠀//　　／　　　　　TVアニメ「その着せ替え人形は恋をする」　　　第１弾PV公開???? ／　　//　　　⠀　　 ⠀\\　　＼恋(コスプレ)は変える。姿も、心も。 ♡2022年1月より放送開始♡https://t.co/0URTXvfQdE#着せ恋 pic.twitter.com/UbWrTwyfnB

— TVアニメ『その着せ替え人形は恋をする』 (@kisekoi_anime) October 25, 2021

Message from Hina Suguta:

I've read the original manga, and it's full of love, cosplay, admiration, hobbies, and all sorts of "likes." I was so shocked, "What a dazzling world...!" I am so happy to be able to be involved in such a world as Marin. She is so straightforward about her feelings, so I also try my best to face my feelings in each recording session. I hope you'll look forward to watching the two of them as they spend the time of their youth with all their might, both in love and in cosplay. And I'd be even happier if this series could join your "favorite" list.

Message from Shoya Ishige:

In a nutshell, "Sono Bisque Doll wa Koi wo Suru" is just precious. It makes my heart ache so hard, and above all, it's beautiful. I am happy to be able to live as Wakana in this Kisekoi world. I'm trying to keep the innocence and depth of the character, who is timid and not good at asserting himself, and I will do my best to bring you the wonderful Kisekoi world. Please look forward to the broadcast starting in January!

The manga has been serialized in Square Enix's Young Gangan since January 2018 and eight tankobon volumes have been available in Japan. Under the title My Dress-Up Darling, its English edition has been released from Square Enix Manga & Books since April 2020.

The story centers on Wakana Gojo, a first-year high school boy with a passion to become "Kashirashi," a craftsman of the heads for traditional hina dolls. He is serious and devoted to making dolls, but he is not familiar with the trends of his generation and has a hard time fitting in with his classmates. For Wakana, Marin Kitagawa, the popular girl who is always at the center of the class circle, is like a resident of another world. But one day, an unexpected turn of events leads him to share a secret with her. Marin, who has always wanted to cosplay but has never been able to make a costume, asks Wakana to make one for her--.

1st key visual:

Main staff:

Director: Keisuke Shinohara (A3!)

Series Composition/Screenplay: Yoriko Tomita (Osamake: Romcom Where The Childhood Friend Won't Lose)

Character Design, Chief Animation Director: Kazumasa Ishida (Saekano the Movie: Finale chief animation director)

Music: Takeshi Nakatsuka

Sound Director: Akiko Fujita

Anime Production: CloverWorks

Source: Aniplex press release

By: Mikikazu Komatsu

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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dornishsphinx · 7 years

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twenty-two meetings that never happened (4/22)

4. THE EMPRESS

The first hint she picked up on that this really wasn’t going to be like any of her other jobs had been when the maid who took her jacket, a woman as exquisitely beautiful as everything else in these rooms, had brought her the most expensive looking tea set she’d ever been trusted to handle unsupervised, bowed, and slipped off noiselessly.

She shifted, the sound uncomfortably loud even here, in what might very well have been the grandest, classiest room in which she’d ever had reason to sit - though Kei would be affronted by that thought, if she were ever to bring it up to him. Still, even he might have deemed the mansion acceptable enough, if not the family who owned it. His feelings on that point were crystal-clear.

He’d first mentioned the name “Kirijo” to her over lunch in a Nanjo-owned restaurant in Sumaru City (they’d ended up there since it meant the high-end cuisine was gratis, neatly allowing for a compromise between Kei’s frankly ludicrous standards and her budget.) Between bites of lobster thermidor, Kei had mentioned that the Kirijo were looking for someone to photograph the CEO’s granddaughter, and that he’d brought up her name - if she was interested in helping him get an in on the company.

Kirijo, he’d gone on to insist, wasn’t the oldest name on the block and could not and would never be more impactful than Nanjo. Nonetheless, they’d come up on his radar thanks to the CEO’s newfound interests. After some digging, Kei - who among them was the best equipped to handle corporate-level espionage, even that which tinged on the mystical - had uncovered records on some object which had entranced the Kirijo patriarch and reportedly driven him to power-crazed madness. What was clear, at least according to Kei, was that they were either far too close to contacting Philemon or, failing that, to bringing about the end-times.

Yukino didn’t particularly feel like going through a third doomsday scenario, but hadn’t really needed such an exorbitant incentive to take the job. The Kirijo, no matter if they were going to destroy everything, paid better than Kismet Publishing ever had.

On that thought, the ballroom-style double doors across from her swung open and a gaggle of maids came through en masse, swarming away like a flock of pigeons from the tall man at the centre of the group. Slightly behind him was a girl, tiny and solemn. Presumably the latter was Mitsuru Kirijo, who she was here to photograph. She was less sure of the man. Her father? A bodyguard? Maybe it was even a valet (though she never bothered to pay attention to Kei’s exacting explanations as to the difference between one of those and a butler.)

They came striding over to her, though she noticed the man shortening his strides to let the girl keep up. He rose a few places in her estimation.

“Yukino Mayuzumi?” he asked.

“That’s me."

"I’m Takeharu Kirijo. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” So, it was the girl’s father then - and more pressingly, the son and heir to Kouetsu Kirijo. She stood up, unsure whether to bow or shake hands. You never knew with these international jet-setter types, and Kirijo’s house was decorated in a western style.

He bowed. Decision made, she mirrored the gesture. Kirijo waited for her to rise before introducing his young companion: “This is my daughter, Mitsuru."

"Enchantée,” said the girl, politely bowing in turn.

Yukino must have looked dumbfounded, because Kirijo smiled proudly.

“Mitsuru has been learning French from her tutor."

French? She barely spoke English, let alone some other western language. Why hadn’t they sent Eriko along with her? She’d lived in Paris, for God’s sake, she would have been perfect in these surroundings - well, unless they somehow got her onto the subject of demonology. She’d never been great at hiding her weirdness about mystic bullshit and considering the Kirijo family’s dealings…

Actually, maybe it was good she’d been sent alone. The thought calmed her down, and she smiled at the girl, trying to exude a friendly air.

"Hello, Mitsuru-san,” she said, deciding to go a little politer than she usually would for a kid of her age - besides, kids liked being treated as if they were competent individuals, she’d found, on the few occasions she’d had to deal with them in previous photoshoots. “I’m here to take some photographs of you, if that’s fine?"

Mitsuru inclined her head graciously. "Of course,” she said. “I put myself into your care."

She spoke in such a polite way, it put Yukino ill at ease. Was this how Kei had sounded as a kid? When she’d been the same age, she didn’t think she’d ever broken out the perfectly proper grammar.

Yukino was quickly shepherded through the mansion to the room they wanted to show off in the photo. She’d thought their waiting rooms were nice, but her breath was taken away at the place they took her: it was spacious, with far-apart walls and a frankly-unnecessarily high ceiling; but more than that, everything in it was so impressively detailed and expensive-looking that she was scared to move in case she accidentally displaced swirls of gold paint, or something.

Kirijo gestured towards a great, oaken armchair. "We were thinking maybe here, if that’s suitable?"

"Yes, this should work,” she said, forcing herself to look straight at him instead of swivelling her head around and gawping like a tourist. “Though Mitsuru-san will appear rather small in comparison, if that’s all right with you?"

For a moment, she wondered if he could pull out a phone and have an exact replica in miniature made for the express purposes of the photoshoot. He probably could. Her question wasn’t to be answered though, as he just nodded.

"That should be fine. Now, I’m afraid I do have a meeting I have to get to - business, you understand. I leave the rest in your hands. If you require anything at all, please, just ask Saikawa-san."

One of the maids, an older woman, bowed. Kirijo, sending a final smile over to his daughter, left the room. And now she was alone with her subject - or as alone as she could get with a dozen inconspicuous but clearly curious maids lining the walls.

Still feeling a bit overwhelmed, Yukino set to work trying to find the perfect angle. She walked around the room, examining the way the light and shadows fell. It was morning, and thanks to a set of windows built high into the east-facing wall, she had natural sunlight to work with - and plenty of it too; it poured into the room, making the silver-glazed ornaments and varnished floorboards gleam. Perfect conditions, really.

Mitsuru was quiet during her examinations, standing like a tiny, painted statue: her back was straight and her hands were clasped loosely in front of her in a pose that would have fit a noblewoman from days long past. Her gaze followed Yukino around the room. In some sudden burst of paranoia, the thought popped into Yukino’s head that she was making sure she wasn’t going to steal anything. She brushed the thought off immediately. She was here on a job. They were hardly looking for a reason to throw her out.

"Mitsuru-san? Can you come over here?"

"Of course,” said Mitsuru. Daintily, she settled herself into the chair. What she’d told Kirijo was even more true than she’d been expecting: with her little white dress, porcelain-pale skin and ringlets that gleamed almost red in the sun, she looked like more like an bisque doll than a person, the kind that were never taken out their boxes for fear of breakage or devaluation.

Yukino directed her to move her head slightly back, so the tresses would fall in a more pleasing way, then to tilt it slightly to the side so so the lighting would fall in a more slanted angle across her cheeks and neck. Mitsuru complied, but there was still something off, something she couldn’t quite get right.

“Mitsuru-san, do you mind if I-” Mitsuru nodded, allowing Yukino to delicately place a hand on her head and move it slightly to the side. For a moment, she hyper-focused on her own hand. If I was still like how I was back then, they’d not have let me in here at all, let alone near the second-in-line to the company.

“Is this chair all right, Mayuzumi-san?” Yukino jerked her head up, to see Mitsuru looking at her, her previously poised, almost blank face giving way to something like concern.

“Huh?"

"I suggested this room to father, but I don’t know a lot about photography. If it won’t work, I’m quite happy for this to move elsewhere."

She was good at hiding it - a lot better than many kids her age - but there was something about the way she asked it that made Yukino suspect she really didn’t want to move. And Yukino thought she knew why. She glanced up at the walls once more. This room had been designed around a line of portraits, placed just out of the reach of the sun’s rays so they wouldn’t get damaged. Each pictured a woman sitting in a painted replica of this very room, each capturing a generation with different fashions, hairstyles and even room decor. The newest, one of a stunningly beautiful woman with a coy smile, looked very much like an older version of the girl in front of her.

She looked back down at Mitsuru, who hadn’t taken her eyes off her the entire time. "It’s my job to make it work,” she told her.

Mitsuru let out a tiny noise of satisfaction that Yukino suspected she wasn’t supposed to have noticed. She laughed, under her breath - whatever had happened to the kind of upper-class brat she’d always been told about, the ones who used tantrums to get what they wanted? Mitsuru must have heard her, because she went bright red and automatically ducked her head. When she peeked back up again, Yukino smiled at her. Mitsuru responded with her own small, appreciative one.

Well, if her wish was Yukino’s command, she had to see about fulfilling it. Yukino closed her eyes, and took a few moments to re-visualise the room and the way the light streamed into it. She considered her options. It would mean sacrificing the deeper shadows she’d been planning on having around the girl’s face, but she could try to put the subject’s entire body at a slight angle towards the sunlight. It was worth a shot, if nothing else. She told Mitsuru what to do, and when she shifted, Yukino all but snapped her fingers in triumph. There it was.

After that, it was a simple matter of snapping the photos. The little Kirijo made for a fine subject, at once elegant and capable of following Yukino’s instructions to the letter.

“That should do it,” she said, after taking pretty much every shot she could. “Well done, Mitsuru-san."

"No. Thank you, Mayuzumi-san,” she responded, with a little bob of a bow. Rising from the chair, she glanced over to the portraits on the wall and then turned her attention back to Yukino, coming closer to her. “Truly,” she said in a low, hesitant voice, “I have no brothers, and Father has told me he never wants to get married again, no matter what Grandfather says, so it looks like my official portrait is going to be with father’s and grandfather’s, not with mother’s. So, thank you accommodating my request."

Yukino felt the strongest urge to ruffle the kid’s hair, but she fought the urge. Instead, she lightly touched her shoulder and, as quietly as she had, murmured: "Like I said, Mitsuru-san. It was no problem.” Mitsuru nodded, minutely, and returned to a normal volume. “Father ought to be back shortly. I shall wait with you until he arrives. Shall we have some tea together?”

Right. The middle Kirijo. The reason Kei had brought up this in the first place. Yukino gritted her teeth in determination and smiled widely.

"Lead the way, Mitsuru-san.”

#persona #mitsuru kirijo #yukino mayuzumi #p3 #p1 #22 meetings

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