#dollhouse day 1

[shrimpoe]

Happy 3 year to Vinshrimp ^_^ A little late.. but it's okay

[tubapun]

Playing Dolls with Jerma

Vote Sting in the Sonic OC Showdown

@sonic-oc-showdown

@whimsical-sonic

[barclaysangel]

The triplets in a nutshell @series-thoughts

Glenda: *frustrated* Why? Why was I cursed with such idiot siblings?!

Junior: *grinning* Just lucky, I guess!

Glen: *wheezing with laughter*

[tj-crochets]

The first doll dress for my 18” doll! It still needs snaps but I’m going to wait to sew them on until the doll arrives, so that I can tweak the fit a little if needed

[ilikedetectives]

Those who think cam tools & mods = award winning shots clearly haven't seen me holding a Sony 200mm zoom lens irl go, "This lens has the as fuck (AF) and motherfucking (MF) buttons, awesome!" I too wish I win competition with this much knowledge about cameras.

[thevirgodoll]

Doll Diaries: 10 Ways to Begin Living the Doll Life.

To introduce my brand and my mission, I have created the first guide on how to Live the Doll Life.

This is the first of many posts to build around what a Doll means.

This is a compilation of all of my advice from past posts, my values and things I recommend aspiring to. It's an initiation of some sorts, and will be a sneak peek to what my website and Patreon will entail. This covers who you want to be (your ideal self), who you are right now (your current self), your measure of confidence and value (your worth), and your reality of who you are (your traits and individuality).

Welcome to the Dollhouse!!!

A huge part of what made me choose "Doll" as a brand is the movie, Life Size (2000).

In Life Size, Eve stood up for what was right, was ambitious, and learned how to honor her feelings as a real person. I highly recommend giving it a watch (I haven't seen the second movie, only referencing the first) to really get a feel of the energy I want to cultivate and embody. Now, let's get into it!

1. Embrace everything you already are.

Just because you are in a pursuit of becoming someone new does not mean you have to discard the things that make you who you are. Embracing who you already are and who you were is key to building self confidence. Who you are now is worthy of love and gratitude.

Ask yourself:

What can I forgive myself for?

What are my current strengths and weaknesses?

How can I show myself gratitude today?

2. Love people and speak life into them.

A true Doll does not engage in taking other women down. The biggest issue in today's world is that negativity has become a hot commodity. It is so insidious once it gets started, and it has been normalized to tear other people down in shady, subtle comments. These things bear no fruit. Understand now that talking badly about people and hating them only increases their sun.

What makes the difference between a Doll and another person is that everything she says has a purpose. Before speaking ask yourself:

Is this necessary? Is this true?

What do I gain from saying this?

Would I want to hear this?

These questions will make you distinguish between feelings and facts. You may not even know why you don't like someone at first, but asking yourself critical questions will teach you to see things from a different perspective. Most of the time, this has taught me to keep certain things to myself! If you don't know what you feel yet, the best thing to do is be quiet. It really is true that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all. ***There are obviously exceptions to the rule, such as emotional abuse, bullying, etc. Defend yourself. Just don't be the one to be a catalyst to someone's downfall.

3. Be a student of life.

In this Dollhouse, we are eager to learn!!! If you want to lead others, you have to be willing to admit that you can be wrong. Even though Dolls are well adored and well educated, we aren't always right. Well, a lot of the time I am, but that's not the point!

Ask yourself:

What is this trying to teach me? What can I take away from this?

When was the last time I opened my mind to something new?

What could I have done differently? If I am resistant to feedback or change in this present moment, why?

4. Take pride in your appearance.

We aren't perfect...but we might as well be the closest thing to it. Make the decision now that you want to look your best every day. This doesn't mean wearing a full face of makeup 24/7, but this does mean being put together. A Doll should never leave the house without looking presentable, and if this is difficult, it's time for a change! Remember in The Princess Diaries when Mia got a makeover to become a princess? She looked like a completely different person and all it took was a new routine in beauty maintenance.

Obviously, you don't have to go to the extremes like she did. There's nothing wrong with glasses, thick curly hair, or thick eyebrows. It's all about making those things cohesive, which is the point of the makeover. I suggest you go on Pinterest or other platforms to find inspiration for what you want to look like. Create a routine around looking your best for YOU...only you know what flatters you the most.

Ask yourself:

What do I feel when I look in the mirror?

What influences me? What does a Doll look like to me?

What would a physical change do for me right now? And why am I doing it?

5. Have people in your life that align with you.

Friends can inspire us, or derail us. It is extremely hard as you get older to sustain friendships because once you leave grade school, there aren't any commonalities keeping you around people you know. Sometimes, we hang onto people longer than we need to.

A verse from the Bible that I often keep in mind regarding friends is Proverbs 12:26:

The righteous choose their friends carefully, but the way of the wicked leads them astray.

Ask yourself:

Would I take advice from this person? Why or why not?

What are the pros and cons of having this person around? How do I feel after hanging out with them?

What do they do for me? Is this reciprocal or transactional?

Is this person bringing me closer to or further away from my dreams, goals, and aspirations? Do they value what I value?

During conflict, how has this friend treated me? Do I trust them? Can I go to them when I need them?

As far as relationships, that is different for everyone but the questions are relatively the same. Some people stop their entire journey towards becoming the woman of their dreams because of love. Guard your heart!!!

Ask yourself:

Does this person align with my beliefs and values? Have I vetted them to see what type of person they are?

How does this person take care of themselves spiritually, mentally, and physically?

What is their story? Is this person aware of that story (whether it's with family, exes, friends, etc.)?

What can they offer me that I cannot give to myself?

Why do I want to be with this person?

6. Truly begin to believe you ARE 1 of 1.

Everyone is different, especially you. Your energy is highly sought after, all you have to do is acknowledge that. In order to live this lifestyle, you gotta appreciate differences in people around you so you can avoid guilting yourself into assimilation/conformity.

Individuality is everything... don't trade that for the approval of others. Social media has revealed how much originality women lack... so be a breath of fresh air. Think of this as Miley Stewart becoming her alter ego, Hannah Montana. The best way to see the new you is a alter ego. Celebrities have used alter egos to embody a side of them that is full of tenacity and candor...basically what they wish they could be. Real life examples are: Sasha Fierce (Beyoncé), Roman (Nicki Minaj).

The arc of an alter ego comes full circle. At some point in the Hannah Montana franchise, Miley came to terms that she lacked nothing in being who she really was because the star power was already in her. Therefore, she let her go and embodied those qualities in herself as "Miley". After hard work it will be the same for you, and you will appreciate who you are even more and not have to separate the two.

Ask yourself:

Who am I? What makes me special?

What do I love most about myself?

What is my signature and aesthetic?

What are the qualities of my alter ego/archetype?

7. Be a woman of substance.

It's useless to work towards being an it girl if you have nothing to talk about. So many women have star quality on the outside, but they are surface level and it prevents them from being seen positively and it takes away their chance of being an it girl.

Learn about current events. Learn about past events. Learn about events that are yet to come, and form an opinion.

You have Google at your disposal, so there's really no excuse to be lazy. Find your passion...most people are empty because they don't do anything they love. Be well versed in multiple topics. I know we say beauty and brains, but it really is hard to come by these days. Most people do not read anymore, nor do they take the time out to learn things themselves.

When it comes to school, that counts as substance as well if you're actually taking classes you're getting something out of (which is a whole other post). I would be remiss if I did not mention that education isn't for everyone. But for those of you that are going to college or are in college like me, this is one of the most important stages of your life. You're on the cusp of greatness. Life happens, but no matter what, we gotta get that degree no matter how long it takes.

Ask yourself:

What's going on in the world right now?

When is the last time I read a book or did something educational?

What are my hobbies? What are my habits? How do these things speak to my intelligence and who I am?

What are the things I want out of my education and what are my goals for this upcoming semester?

8. Dedicate time to your healing.

Just because everything looks perfect, doesn’t mean it will always be that way. This journey towards being that girl will not get rid of your need to heal.

Healing is a rugged path that one must travel their entire life...your journey in becoming the person of your dreams never ends. Give yourself grace on things that you didn't know before.

As always, I recommend journaling to understand your thought process. Sometimes, I look back at my entries in my diary and realize that things weren't as bad as they seemed. Sometimes, though, they were...and for my healing process it became crucial to (when I have the capacity) revisit the moments that shaped my perspective.

I know everyone says this, but there no shame in getting help. No amount of Doll Diaries I give you or confidence lessons/advice from others will matter if you are ignoring what fills your heart with dread at night. Like Megan thee Stallion says, bad b*tches have bad days too.

I am in therapy and I take medications for my mental illnesses, and that made all the difference. Tips are in my mental health tag.

I recommend a spiritual routine that works for you. This may include meditating, praying, going to church, taking quiet time...it's all up to you, but it gives me purpose and structure when feeling existential.

Dedicate life to something bigger than yourself. Remain on the path by upkeeping discipline. Outside influences can lead you astray, but you are the difference between stumbling and getting up, and stumbling and remaining flat on your face. This will involve giving up certain things, such as music or shows or even people that push you further away from what you believe in.

Lastly, have a list of coping mechanisms that you review in crisis. Often, things get overwhelming and we won’t get the chance to sit down and journal or go read something. With that, it’s helpful to make a list of things that you know will help you cope and survive no matter what (while acknowledging the absence of these means you’re getting bad again.)

Here is a very small portion of my list:

cleaning my space

spending time with my dog

playing video games

writing, drawing, music

Ask yourself:

When's the last time I had a break without feeling guilty or lazy?

What positive practices do I have in place to keep me stable? What negative practices do I have in place that prevent me from being stable?

How am I currently working towards improving my mental state? What do I know about myself mentally and spiritually, and how can I use that to transcend?

9. Learn the art of detachment.

People talk about being unbothered, but I don't think everyone truly understands what that means. In this Dollhouse, unbothered does not mean being nonchalant and void of all emotions. Feelings are natural, and I am not sure where someone mixed that up. What creates "unbothered" energy and "detachment" is by realizing you cannot control everything and that majority of the time, it isn't personal. This is one of the hardest lessons out there.

Ask yourself:

Is this really in my control?

How can I focus on the present moment?

And ultimately, remember you cannot fix or please anyone. Keep your composure even in the face of negativity. Your reactions and perceptions to everything you deal with is the most important thing, and will be the common denominator when it comes down to your experiences. Two books I read that changed my perspective and helped me maintain this lifestyle on this was The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and Think Like a Monk by Jay Shetty.

10. Above all, live in YOUR world!!!

Make your world exclusive. Keep certain things for yourself so it retains sacredness. Be your own best friend before anyone else. Learn to embrace your own company. Don't always be accessible. Cultivate richness in your life...be willing to take risks and have a variety of experiences.

The main and most important question to ask yourself is: What does my dream world look like?

This is where the Doll Life comes into play. Barbie was marketed as being an all around sweetheart and "girl boss" with the dream life. Bratz were marketed as having individuality and a dream world experience driven by passion.

Both have core values in making sure young girls dreamed big and remained authentic. Honorable mention: Disney, as they did a great job at emphasizing dreams can come true with Disney princesses.

What I want my version of a Doll Life to be marketed as is a world where we indulge in endless possibilities and be multiple versions of ourselves at once. Where we feel like something wonderful could happen, even in the midst of trials.

We can be gentle, yet demanding. We can be feminine with masculine energy, and vice versa. We don't have to choose between one aesthetic or the other. We don't have to conform to the world, because we are in it and not of it. Dolls are seen as "perfect", and that's just the thing, I don't want my brand to be a cookie cutter definition! That's why I say I am the Doll that no one can play with. To be a Doll means to be uniquely you and standing out amongst the rest. It's a mindset, it's a lifestyle.

Don't box yourself in... remember growing up the dream life of Bratz and Barbie refused to box themselves in and remained true to themselves. Live without limits!!! Dreams really can come true. And this Dollhouse is a safe space to DREAM!!!

Even if you don't believe it now, day by day, if you start dedicating yourself to this and remain congruent with your philosophy, you will be more than you could ever imagine. It took so much time for me to do this, but my life is forever changed. So indulge in your wishes, and create your own "life of luxury" or "dream world". Simply live by YOUR rules, and use mine as a outline to get started. I can't wait to see what all of you come up with. I hope this helps Dolls!!! *gives you the keys to your suite in the dollhouse* Proud of you!!!

xoxo,

thevirgodoll ♡

see also:

confidence tag

other doll diaries

advice

[thedollhousediaries]

The Dollhouse Diaries

Real Life In Plastic Tip #6:

ෆTime Management for Neurodivergent Girly Girls and Boujie Hyperfemmesෆ

This is the pretty girl era of having time management under control. The key is to learn how to live in the moment while also being discipline enough to move on to the next task as needed. I know that sentence was as daunting to read as it was for me to write ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა I guarantee I gotcha *Chaeyoung voice*

First Things First: Go 1 Week At a Time!! (every 3 days if an entire 7 is too much or your schedule is unpredictable, like mine)

Build a simple list of all the things you have to do and that you would like to do. Its much easier to get it all out on the table so you can donate more of your brain power to sorting things, rather than holding things.

Put all of the things listed on a calendar: Most important first things first! This means things like health appointments,work schedule, birthdays, holidays that you celebrate, classes, or anything that involves not only your time but other’s as well. Then after that put the elective things second; Nail appointments, shopping trips, dates with friends, etc. Lastly, put the things you would like to incorporate into your daily routine; We talking skincare, any hobbies you may have like drawing/painting/sculpting/reading/blogging, any form of exercise, etc.

Once the week or however much time you have scheduled out is done on your overall calendar, then its time for marrying it to your life.

Marrying your schedule: Planner apps, Physical Planner, Dry Erase Boards and Bullet Journals

Choosing your medium at keeping up with your schedule is very important. You may have to try them all before you get comfortable with something. I have tried them all and I’ve found that the main one that truly stuck with me was the app/website Notion. I like it because its fully customizable and you can use it at your own pace. Every week or every day may not be super eventful and so it drops the guilt and shameful feeling of not filling up pages every single day.

Here is what all I use and the way I use them:

Notion <3 I use it as my overall journal. I use the apps on my ipad/phone to check if I’m not home and I can use the website on my PC when I’m home and relaxing. I like it because its very versatile. Think of it as a digital journal combined with similar mechanics of tumblr. I use it for literally everything. There are a lot of videos that can show off all of the cool things Notion can be used for but this is the video that personally helped me learn it quickly

Bullet Journals <3 I have about 3 journals and I love them because I get to customize things with cute stickers and it gives very fun scrapbooking vibes. Because I use Notion as a all over planner I can use my BUJO’s for more fun and creative things. I usually use these for all of my cute ideas and things thats in my mind and aesthetic wishlists and such. Its very therapeutic to take time out to be kawaii and glamorous and just put cute thoughts on to paper! I mainly use it for kpop inputs, my fav shows, wishlists, dates and etc.

Dry erase board <3 I use this as a overall daily top important to-do list! Sometimes I dont always open my notion if I dont have anything extremely important coming up but there may be some things I need to keep on my mind to do for that day. The way my neurodivergency is set up I need to keep the most important things always in my face or I could forget everything. So, I put things on there like get a new tire, pick up order from bath & bodyworks, put clothes in the dryer, wash dishes, and etc. Daily tasks like that usually goes on my dry erase board

Remember at the end of the day dont be too hard on yourself and your schedule! Move at your own pace and always set yourself up for success. Scheduling is ideally suppose to calm you and be a tool to improve your life; not stress you out. If at any point you begin to feel overwhelmed just stop and recenter yourself and your life. I felt overwhelmed at first myself and that was because I was trying to keep up with a hyper organized and productive version of myself that I needed to give more patience to develop. Let this come organically to you and not because you are trying to keep up with what u feel everyone else is doing, or to the future self you are going to inevitably become. Happy scheduling, Dollmate!

[ybklix]

𝐂𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 ♡ 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ₊⊹

CRY BABY .♡⊹ (( bang chan)) mdni

Chapters:

1: cry baby ((wc: 4.1k))

2: dollhouse ((wc: 3k))

ONE: cry baby.

you're all on your own and you lost all your friends, you told yourself that it's not you, it's them ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

It didn't matter how long the journey had been; when it came to reaching his hometown, fatigue and jet lag ceased to exist for Chris once his body felt the air of Australia. He had arrived at a wonderful time, with time to arrange things in his new home and visit his girlfriend.

Chris picked up his phone and sent a text to his girlfriend letting her know he had arrived and that he'd pick her up after work. There were still a couple of hours left, so he decided to order a taxi to take him to his new home. He had planned his stay in Sydney carefully and thoughtfully, considering every angle. It favored him quite a bit; his girlfriend of two and a half years lived here, he could continue working from the comfort of home, and he could pick up extra jobs that he didn't completely dislike. Indeed, for Chris, working hard and keeping his mind occupied was always better.

Everything was going quite perfectly that he couldn't help but smile. He bought his dream house a couple of months ago and had since begun his official move, moving his entire life from Seoul to Sydney. Returning, for him, was something he hadn't expected. He found it almost funny that after all his effort, he returned to where it all began, where everything started as a simple dream. But all his sacrifice had yielded excellent results since he had a steady job and stability, doing what he loved most, writing and producing music. When he announced he had to leave, his colleagues almost tried to stop him. He was quite successful and famous as a producer, but they understood that he could continue working, just not in that distant country anymore.

Chris looked at the beautiful landscapes the city offered through the taxi window. He was so excited that once he spent the afternoon with his partner, he would consider immediately go to visit his family. A long day awaited him, but he knew it would be worth it.

Buying a house in a neighborhood like this, spectacular in every aspect, suitable for childless couples, professionals, and simply for families, whose children rarely went out to play and make noise, and for retired elderly people living alone, was just what he needed, a large space just for him, even though it wasn't part of his plan; but suddenly a change in his life and routine sounded so good. Chris didn't know exactly why a house and not an apartment, to start with, as he had in Seoul; not even his own father understood it, Chris just excused himself saying he needed to own a more spacious place where noise could easily be canceled out, for the construction of his own recording studio... but inside him, perhaps there was a certain instinct that he wanted to start a family soon, he knew exactly that this wasn't his girlfriend's idea, not even as a joke, but maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny feeling like that in him.

Once entering the neighborhood, he felt the warmth of living in Australia again despite it being a slightly cool afternoon with the sun hiding behind the clouds. He never thought he would come to this place; he always believed he would live in Seoul for the rest of his life; he was so excited to start a new life but still leaving aside illusions, if something went wrong, he knew he could flee to Korea whenever he wanted... but he wasn't like that, he was never the type of guy who just run away. In fact, he thought that he left Sydney to pursue a dream, never by choice; it would be a lie to say he didn't like Seoul since it was his home for a long time... but once he could see the green grass, the well-kept roses of the people, he realized he had disconnected a bit and had lived in the noisy city long enough. This was what pleased him the most, nature, and if he wanted more buildings and noise, the city center wasn't far from his new address.

He stood there for a few seconds admiring the facade of his new home and noticed a teenage boy entering the house next door, they must be the neighbors, he thought. When he was initially given a tour of the house, as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, a woman welcomed him, told him her name but Chris didn't remember it, she mentioned that she lived with her family and other things like how much they had started to remodel and modernize that house. Still, he felt strangely safe, the distances between the houses were large enough to provide privacy, to his right was that family he supposed consisted of the teenager, and to his left was an older widow, or at least that's what the real estate agent told him.

He sighed in frustration at the sight of the pile of boxes scattered around and thought that he didn't have enough time, but fortunately, he was always prepared and a step ahead, so the interior designer would come tomorrow with her team to help her move stuff. He had to prepare as soon as possible for the start of his new job in the morning, as a professor at the university. He would teach two subjects related to music at different levels, and a few courses about Asian culture. He was nervous, but he had become a teacher in his spare time, and he felt quite prepared for whatever he might face.

He was hesitating whether to take a nap or move a few things in case Leah, his girlfriend, wanted to come; Chris ran his hand through his hair, thinking, so he opted for the second option; he cleared the living room area, tidied up, cleaned a few things, took a shower, and without thinking twice, it was time to pick up Leah.

He took the keys to his new car, really taking seriously the idea of living in Sydney and being well prepared. Ready to have a new life. He felt tense when he realized that he would be driving in Australia again and that the steering wheel was on the right side, unlike his old home where he had obtained his license from a very young age. Still, he set his GPS and left; this time, as he passed by the house next door, he now noticed it was a girl entering the house.

When he finally picked up his girlfriend, the sky was completely dark, and he noticed how tired she looked; Chris felt slightly bad and reproached himself for not thinking earlier and not bringing her a small romantic gesture of welcome, even though he was the one who had just arrived. They hadn't seen each other for a long month, he missed his girlfriend so much that it almost physically hurt not to be with her. A few seconds later, Leah's expression softened, and her serious demeanor turned into a warm smile.

—Channie —she called him affectionately by his Korean nickname, almost in a sigh, and extended her arms.

Finally, they hugged for just the right amount of time and exchanged a tender kiss. He had met her almost three years ago in Seoul; she worked in advertising for a magazine and was somewhat related to the entertainment world, so her social circle was so similar to Chris's; like him, Leah had grown up in Australia with Korean parents, the only difference being that she did have her whole life back in Oceania; still, he was captivated by her at that party, she was only two years younger than him, Leah at that time was just a beginner still in college on a trip in Seoul with her other circle of friends, and he was a recent graduate with a special gift. Despite the differences, they decided to give it a try, leading them to a long-distance relationship for just over two years, but it didn't matter now, at least not anymore for him; right now, he was with her, and he could have her whenever he wanted.

Chris, or Chan to her, caressed his girlfriend's face as he gave her a gentle kiss, breathing in her perfume one last time before pulling away and lowering his hand to her bare thigh with a smile.

—Do you want to go out to eat? Should we go somewhere...? —he spoke.

—Mm, let's order food and you can show me your house.

—It's still a bit of a mess —he warned.

Chris let out a small laugh and did exactly as Leah had suggested. She had been inside the house before, but she was always surprised at how well laid out it was in terms of space and design. He found her reaction endearing and with a smile on his face, he thought about how all of this might one day belong to her too. They both headed to eat at the small and only nightstand table in his TV room; some larger items were arriving tomorrow, so for now, that was what they could improvise with. As they ate, Leah kept talking about how stuff should be arranged to create harmony and coherence in the house. Chris listened attentively and lovingly; they talked about their respective jobs and what awaited them.

After sitting in silence and letting the food settle for a while, Leah spoke.

—Is your room upstairs...

Chris turned to look at her; not seeing her for a long time suddenly had a quick effect on him, and from one second to the next, he found her ten times more attractive.

—Yeah, do you want to give it your approval? —he replied playfully, hoping this would lead to something else.

Chris looked at her profile for a few seconds before she turned and gave him a teasing smile in response. He examined her, from her smooth, slightly upturned nose and her legs barely exposed by the skirt, to her shiny, loose silk blouse. Suddenly, every detail of her drove him crazy and made him feel like a hormonal teenager. He wanted to fuck her right there, right now.

He felt that her mischievous smile and soft gaze were enough signals for him, so he dangerously leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. He started slow and passionate, his right hand traveling up to the hem of her skirt, playing with the thin seam, unsure whether to slide his hand gently between her thighs or do it quickly in one swift motion, while the other hand firmly held her waist. Chris was gradually losing himself, his tongue slipping in, giving her a bolder, dirtier kiss; however, after a torturous session of just wet and hot kisses, Leah squirmed out of his grasp and pulled away from him slowly.

Chris looked confused, but his girlfriend's expression only worried him. With her pink, swollen lips, Leah suddenly seemed shy, with her eyes cast down. In seconds, Chris realized that maybe it was just something she didn't feel like doing right now, and he respected that... but it still seemed quite strange to him. Had she pushed him away? Since when did she reject him? Every time they saw each other, because of their painful long-distance relationship, the most intense and pleasurable sex awaited them.

Chris wanted to believe that maybe it wasn't the best situation for her, tired in her work clothes after a long day.

—It's a bit late... and we both have to work tomorrow —she said, raising her gaze and captivating Chris's gaze—. You'll do great, love —she smiled.

He knew her so well, he didn't understand why she suddenly gave him an awkward smile pretending to be kind... Had something bothered her, and he had no idea? He wanted to ask her so many things, but Leah stood up from her position on the floor and grabbed her bag.

—I really need to rest, and it's getting late. See you tomorrow? —she interrupted.

Chris quickly got up and gently took her waist.

—Of course, I'll drive you home.

As they got into the car, Chris looked at the completely quiet street, with no noise, the houses perfectly illuminated, there was no one outside except for the two of them and the mysterious girl next door coming out of her house with the cold wind blowing her hair.

During the drive, Leah became herself again, outgoing and energetic. She told her boyfriend how they should spend the short break he had as teachers in September; he just thought about how grateful he was to have a sweet moment with her and looked at her with tenderness when the traffic lights indicated he should stop... yet, he was a little hurt, deep down, slightly bruising his pride as a man that he didn't get any physical intimacy from his girlfriend that night... he had waited so long, he thought he could reward her, and when his house is no longer a mess, he would make sure to satisfy her and shower her with gifts.

—I'll see you tomorrow, Chan —she leaned in, giving him a quick goodbye kiss—. Call me.

Again, for the third time that day, she felt strange to him. It was obvious she wouldn't be the same young woman she used to be, capable of throwing a party every time they saw each other... but he felt there was something about her that she had to tell him as soon as possible, or he would go crazy. It wasn't surprising, Chris was an intense guy.

Once he returned home, he threw the keys with fury... he had tried to keep his sanity, but the more he overthought it on the way back home, the less sense it made to him. She didn't anger him, never could he be angry with her, it just, maybe, he thought, it was about him.

He went up to his room, in one swift movement he took off his shirt, feeling the cold air seeping through the small opening in his window. He checked the time on his phone, 11:43 p.m., he needed to rest, to take a shower in the morning and start his day... but he could only think about the romantic date options he could do on a simple Monday.

As he took a few steps towards his bed, approaching it, he noticed through his window how a faint, warm light, not so noticeable, managed to penetrate into his dark room. He turned his body and cursed for not remembering to put up curtains before; for a moment, he felt sorry for not realizing that significant detail, he was so used to the large windows in his old apartment in Seoul restricting the view. It was obvious that there was another room, right next to his.

Chris didn't want to pay attention, but catching the subtle silhouette of a girl sitting by his window captivated him inconsistently. She was wearing a thin white tank top despite the cold weather. He thought about how warm her room looked while giving it a quick inspection. The girl had her face buried in her naked knees, and her loose hair covered her face; her arms embraced her legs. Suddenly, she pushed her hair behind her ears, revealing just her profile. Yet it wasn't hard for Chris to see that she was crying. Her cheek was shining, wet, and he could see the small tears sliding down.

The girl by the window began to sob, causing her back and chest to contract. Chris suddenly didn't want to watch; he felt like he was invading her privacy and pain. But somehow, he couldn't stop watching her; he was so dismayed, but he was more bothered by the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off her.

He had no idea how long he had been watching her... but somehow, deep down, he thought, in the most hidden part of himself, that she looked strangely beautiful crying. The large rectangular window frame captured that girl with glowing cheeks and slightly messy hair, crying in what seemed to be a corner with books and a seat by the window.

The girl by the window closed her eyes tightly and slowly lay down, facing away from Chris's window, ending the performance completely. Finally, he reacted; she was still sobbing, her back moving uncontrollably, but it was harder to see her now.

Chris didn't know what had come over him; he almost felt annoyed that his neighbor didn't put up her own curtains. He could see everything, from his bed, which was positioned so that it faced his room directly, to his posters on the wall, to her backpack thrown on the floor.

Chris sighed and tried not to worry about his neighbor anymore. He wanted to think it was just a young girl in the age of broken hearts and not something deeper... but she was crying with such emotion that it made his head spin. He puffed his cheeks, letting out a sigh, and, retreating to the window, he took off his pants, slipping into his sheets, making sure she wouldn't accidentally turn and see him. Unlike her room, his bed was positioned sideways, his front door facing his bed, and her room's door was on the right side of the bed. Somehow, he felt like her room was more exposed, so he would have to move to avoid causing her any discomfort.

At dawn, the light bothered him, and he prayed that the girl had her curtains closed. Otherwise, he would have to get up semi-naked, and if she saw him, she might think he was a pervert. And just for his luck, some pretty white lace curtains covered her window; Chris was able to leave freely and go to wash up, taking his clothes with just a towel covering his lower half and changing in another room.

Chris looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if his outfit was appropriate: formal pants with a black button-up shirt. He wanted to think it was the best option for winter. He adjusted his dark hair before heading downstairs for breakfast, tired of boxes everywhere; he hoped everything would be in order between today and tomorrow for a better rest.

As he left, driving his car towards the university, he saw her again, walking down the sidewalk in the same direction as him; the famous girl who had been crying by her window, his neighbor, wearing blue jeans, white ankle boots, and a thin pale pink sweater. He saw her so fleetingly that he only saw her profile once again and noticed her backpack slung across her body.

And then she saw him too, just in a quick glance, driving his car, dressed all in black. She hadn't seen him completely, they hadn't even introduced themselves, but her mother confirmed it, he's a very handsome young man, he lives alone, and he bought the property outright, he must have a lot of money. His name is Christopher.

She had seen him at least twice, an embarrassing encounter in the morning when she tried to open her curtains just before leaving home, as she always did, but found his broad back naked, wearing only a towel while holding his clothes; Celeste immediately slid the curtain with embarrassment and just left her room. She hated to admit her mother was right, but the short two seconds she saw of his build weren't bad at all. And the second time was just moments ago as she headed to the university.

So that's her new neighbor, a man who emerged out of nowhere, bought that modernized house that had been empty for so long. She was so used to there being no one next to her room, now she had to be careful of walking around wearing with what she’s comfortable with.

Celeste took a couple of buses and one more subway line to reach her campus, where the first classes went by normally, and it wasn’t until brunch when the only person she talked to approached her.

—Celeste —he said to her.

She looked up from her food, observed him, gave him a smile, and invited him to sit with her gaze.

—I heard we’re finally getting a music teacher —he said again.

—Wow, it’s about time, it’s been a week —she replied.

The guy smiled at Celeste and took one of her fries.

—There’s going to be an art exhibition, you should come —he suggested.

—When? —she asked.

—Friday at 7.

Celeste raised her eyes, thinking if she had to work that day and concluded that if she asked for the day off they’d give it to her since she worked a week with no days off, she could perfectly go see Hyunjin’s exhibition.

It wasn’t new for Celeste to be somewhat… strange. She didn’t know how to explain it, but little by little, she distanced herself from all the people she once spoke comfortably with, and surprisingly, the handsome exchange student was the only one who talked to her. He was two years older than her and was studying visual arts, yet he decided to take music courses, and that’s where they met.

—I’ll be there —Celeste replied, checking the time on her phone—. We still have about 20 minutes ‘till class —she added.

Hyunjin smiled at her; he was quite handsome and popular, so a part of Celeste wants to feel human and like him like most do, if she paid proper attention to him... she could develop feelings for him, she hated the feeling part, and that feelings lead her to false illusions but she felt that in her dull life she needed to at least, have a little crush on someone. Maybe that would help distract her.

Falling in love was something Celeste didn't know, something that was out of her hands and even something she thinks is out of her reach. It's not that she doesn't want to have attention and affection... she just gave up and decided to think that maybe life is lonely for her. Her last intimate encounter and affection for a man was when she was 13 years old at a birthday party when she was dared to kiss someone, that was her last and first kiss. The rest of her years she lived normally without the opportunity of a prospect and love... that was one of the last things she thought and cried about, truly. Love.

The depression and anxiety was diminishing her libido and she remembers that maybe the last time she masturbated out of boredom was a year ago.

But Hyunjin... Celeste thought about whether she should like him, whether she should bring excitement into her life for the first time in twenty years.

She was an interesting and pretty girl, shy, but lonely, she isolated herself too much and lived absorbing the pain and problems of her surroundings; her issue was that she felt too much that sometimes she would go into a kind of self-control, on automatic, off without feeling anything, until she overloaded herself and exploded, it was always the same with her and she felt pathetic that she could never change. Her behavior led her to pull away from everyone... wondering why they didn't come back to her, maybe it's them, not me, she thought constantly.

Celeste watched Hyunjin closely as they talked for 10 minutes and the next 10 they used it to walk to the classroom. She was quite observant and took it upon herself to memorize every detail about him, his full lips, his eyelids hiding in his sharp brown eyes, the almost invisible mole under his eye, thick dark eyebrows, long hair and big hands, come on Celeste, feel something, she thought.

She wanted to bang her head against the wall, only then did she think she would come to her senses to feel something for someone as attractive as Hyunjin, besides he was an artist and the only person nice to her... she felt like a heartless bitch.

Arriving at the classroom, Hyunjin and Celeste sat together and the teacher was already inside as well. She spotted his silhouette as she passed, but saw him completely once again looked up at him... suddenly he seemed so similar, those broad shoulders and all black clothes, she shouldn't have been excited, but something small grew inside her, perhaps the intrigue that maybe her teacher is also her new neighbor? Suddenly the big city she always grew up in seemed small to her with such a coincidence.

Celeste was at least ninety percent sure it was him, she watched him a minute longer and as she felt their gazes cross, she turned to Hyunjin, embarrassed. Class started two minutes later and he finally introduced himself.

—I am Christopher Bang. Sorry for the delay of the subject by a week.

TWO: dollhouse.

places, places, get in your places, throw on your dress and put on your doll faces. everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Celeste had lived in that house her whole life. It was only when she turned 18 and graduated that she managed to leave for a year and breathe… but due to economic reasons, she had to return. It's not that she wasn't grateful… she just needed a break from what her family could sometimes be.

Her father was an accountant who worked hard to provide his children with a home in what was considered one of the best neighborhoods in the city. At least she agreed that he did the right thing in that regard. However, he was insolent, dishonest, and unfaithful. She discovered her father's infidelity when she was only eleven years old, one June night when her father probably thought the house was completely empty since her mother usually took them —her younger brother and her— to visit their aunt… but that day was different, one of those when Celeste's puberty rebellion hit, and she refused to go with them. So, she wanted to stay in her room… until she saw them, him and his lover entering the house. She was so surprised, scared, and overwhelmed with emotions that she didn't know what to do, so she pretended not to be there. Overnight, her innocence was gone in an unpleasant way.

She couldn't live with the guilt, so a year later, she confessed it to her mother. Celeste already knew the gravity of the situation by then and had considered a million options that could happen: her mother going crazy, even blaming her daughter for not telling her, or a calm and depressive reaction… but in all scenarios, Celeste maturely considered divorce as a good option. She felt that she was no longer a child, she could live with it; after all, she had discovered that her father was not a good person and that her mother could take care of them. The only concern of poor twelve-year-old Celeste was her younger brother, who at the age of eight, for them, everything seemed like a fairytale, and having both parents was part of their fantasy world. She hated that she cared and loved him… but she was sure that the little one could overcome a divorce. She didn't want to be there anymore; she couldn't even look at her father in the eyes, she was always avoiding any encounter with him.

But her mother's reaction to the truth was… something different from the expected options. Even after years had passed, it still seemed so strange to her. They were there, sitting in the dining room, and it was three days after Celeste turned 12, on a rainy day in July when Celeste got tired of crying and wondering every night why… her birthday celebration made her angry; she didn't feel so sad and dejected anymore. She hated the way her father pretended to love her and everything was fine, the way he played with her brother and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, she couldn't stand it anymore, so she told her mother. That time she had murmured an oh, and stared fixedly at a fixed point.

“I know, because I saw them,” Celeste said before her mother even asked anything else, but she didn't, she didn't do anything and was shocked. During the night, it was as if nothing had happened, and she served dinner… that wasn't what she expected, she wanted a scene and chaos; she wanted there to be shouts, but somehow she was grateful that there was no such behavior because of Celeste's little brother. But she was blinded by hatred and remorse towards her father.

The next day she remembers that she reproached her mother, shouting, “won't you do anything?”. She didn't answer. After that, she felt so cold and distant, her father was becoming more and more obvious with his affairs, the smell of a perfume that wasn't his wife's, spontaneous outings, and even nights without returning home.

Celeste couldn't stand pretending to be okay, and two months later, after seeing how her mother deteriorated and faded more and more, she walked to her father's small office in the house, being completely a mess, and told him the truth. “I know you have another woman, maybe mom wants to keep pretending with you but I can't.”

She remembered her father's expression, the surprise on his face and its paleness. Celeste didn't expect a response from him, so she was about to leave, but back then her father acted quickly, getting up from his chair and questioning her. “I saw you, don't try to deny it.”

The following years were him trying to fix it and build a bond with her but it was in vain; suddenly her little brother wondered why his father was too lenient with his sister. Celeste lived through her remaining teenage years trying to be someone normal until she finally got lost in music; she didn't want to spend time at home so she tried to enroll in all the extracurricular courses at her school that didn't involve physical effort like sports. Months later after her horrible confrontation, she found a passion for the piano, all her following school years were based on music, being in recitals whose events she never invited either of her parents to, playing for the drama club, being in the literature club, debate club, creative writing club… until she enrolled in her chosen university dedicated to that one thing she was passionate about.

At first, she knew she would annoy her parents with her career choice, but it was the perfect time to blackmail her father to pay for her institution. She wasn't anywhere near forgiving him, but the psychological damage somehow had a price: getting out of that house. Celeste had a busy life, after rehearsals, she started having part-time jobs since she was sixteen with the dream of living in her own space near the university.

She was so busy, she would come home around 10 or 11 at night and what she found at home was devastating. Her mother was a secretary who became a housewife after her second child was born, a boy named Blake. She dedicated 12 years to taking care of her children until she found out about her husband's infidelity. Cecille gradually became an alcoholic.

Celeste had to see it every night when she came home from work. Her wasted mother lying on the couch with the TV on and a strong smell of alcohol. Celeste had tried everything, her aunt's intervention, enrolling her in support groups, but her mother didn't seem to cooperate.

When she turned fifteen, she begged her father to divorce her mother, but she refused to accept it.

Every now and then she had to go check on her brother, to make sure he didn't turn into a complete idiot like his father, or simply into a bad person, related to what was he seeing at home. But even in that, both dysfunctional parents were lucky, Blake was a shy boy, four years younger than Celeste, who grew up with a passion for physics and mathematics; unlike her, he did go out in the afternoons with his friends and lived a life outside of his home. He didn't care how bad things were, as long as he had somewhere to live and his own space he was more than okay, even when he was fourteen he managed to steal alcohol from his mother to go try it at a friend's house later, not everything had to be so bad, or at least that's what he thought… sometimes Celeste wanted to be like him and try not to worry too much. Little by little, both of them grew up without showing affection, Celeste thought that maybe that's why it wasn't something she sought in other people, her perception of love and respect had been so damaged since she was young but she couldn't accept it. She never felt anything when she saw her classmates holding hands, seeing the cheesy actions of strangers showing affection, a hug was something she only remembered fleetingly from her childhood.

When she finally turned eighteen, she found a roommate and rented a dorm room on campus; that place wasn't her dream, the floor was noisy, full of extroverted theater kids, but it was all she had. She had lived like that for a whole year, with no communication to her parents, working and studying at the same time, only communicating with her brother to wish him Merry Christmas and New Year, and in May, to wish him a happy birthday. It all fell apart in her second year of school when her roommate told her she was moving out and Celeste couldn't afford the full expense, she already had an academic scholarship and her parents were still paying for her institution.

Celeste did it, she called her brother on a normal day that wasn't a holiday, her little brother advised her that she could go back home, that's what he would do when he entered college, since it would only take him routes and buses to get there. “I'll let mom and dad know,” he told her over the phone before abruptly hanging up. Celeste couldn't answer, she couldn't say don't do it. And she insisted by text that she would manage on her own. That day her heart broke when she read the text from her fifteen-year-old brother saying: why do you hate them? come back home for me the uni is literally half an hour away from home

She had no choice, she had everything, she wouldn't pay rent, her payment at the university would continue, she would only work to buy her own things and take care of Blake. She never thought he would feel abandoned. She thought about how much it must have sucked to come home alone, with an absent father and an alcoholic mother.

When she told her roommate that she would return to her home in Woollahra, her expression was incredulous, “you've been living there all this time? Why would you want to live in an uncomfortable dorm?”. Celeste wondered if she was being ungrateful.

And then she returned, her father couldn't be happier, and even her mother's dull face lit up at having her only daughter back. She would go back to being the same, practically just going home to sleep.

If she had everything… why did she feel so empty. Her room was still the same as they had decorated it since she was eight, covered in pale pink and white shades. The years passed and she continued to support her brother, going to academic competitions he attended, and for the first time, she asked him to come see her perform at a recital in her university's auditorium.

And so her life remained, until now that she felt stuck once again, in her third year of university. She felt like she was repeating her high school years and it was suffocating her. If she could leave with Blake she would, but she was just a simple university student with anxiety attacks in the school bathrooms.

—You should ask the new guy next door if he has a girlfriend, seriously, he's cute, Celeste. You've never had a boyfriend, right? —her mother mentioned, leaning on the kitchen counter.

Celeste looked at her incredulously, wondering since when her private life mattered to her, and if she had a boyfriend, it wouldn't be something she'd inform her about. She was about to leave for university, she didn't want those kinds of conversations at 7 in the morning.

—Ew, isn't he like thirty? —her brother added, eating a spoonful of his cereal.

—Age can just be a number, Blakey, we want your sister to find love.

—I have to go —Celeste sighed, escaping the conversation.

She couldn't stop thinking about it. Once again, she was right, why couldn't she find love? Her only friend, whom she rarely contacted, moved in with her mother in Melbourne after finishing high school. And now socializing at university where classmates change and come and go, it was so difficult for her to establish any kind of relationship with anyone. The only person she talked to was… an exchange student who shared only one class on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Celeste couldn't help but wonder if she should start flirting with him, just to try to feel something in return.

Every time she examined him more… she realized how cute he was, should she approach him? Anyway, he would leave at the end of the semester, no one could die trying.

When they sat together in class, she couldn't help but be distracted by thoughts that tomorrow she would dress up more for Hyunjin, fix her hair more, wear more makeup… the idea of being liked by someone made her so nervous.

And when she looked up, she saw her new teacher, who she could swear was her new handsome neighbor.

As the class began, she remembered her mother's voice saying he was handsome, and without realizing it, a slight mocking smile appeared on her face as she analyzed her new teacher's appearance in detail. Slightly tanned skin, short, dark brown hair semi-wavy, his intense gaze beneath his slit eyes, prominent nose, and thick lips… and his voice was strong, commanding, and nasal, and his build was… Celeste thought… was this what imagination was like when dealing with the sudden rush of hormones?

She had the idea that maybe she wasn't the only one so surprised and delighted by the assignment of the new teacher. She discreetly turned her gaze to the sides, to her other classmates, and noticed how they looked at him intensely without taking their eyes off the man giving the class, Celeste felt foolish, had she looked so obvious? Had Hyunjin noticed?

Once the class ended, Chris said:

—Before you all leave… —he approached his desk and quickly and gently picked up a paper from his desk— Is Celeste Burton here? —he looked up searching among the students.

Celeste frowned and timidly raised her hand, Hyunjin quickly glanced at her friend and then at the teacher, it also seemed strange to him but he didn't pay attention to it; Chris finally managed to perceive her and added:

—Can you come up for a moment to talk?

His gaze fixed on hers, Celeste nodded gently and began to gather her things, suddenly she was feeling nervous and not understanding why.

—The rest of you, I'll see you tomorrow —Chris concluded.

With a nervous smirk, Celeste was about to approach but a warm and large hand holding her wrist made her turn, Hyunjin was so close to her face that she couldn't even react.

—I have to go to the arts campus now, but I'll see you tomorrow, Cel —he informed her with a smile, almost feeling his cool breath.

—Sure.

She limited herself to answer, she was so overwhelmed by the situation's overload, Chris wanted to talk to her and suddenly Hyunjin was approaching dangerously, she couldn't process it. Celeste returned her gaze to Chris, who had his eyes fixed on Hyunjin until he left the classroom, after feeling Celeste's soft gaze, he cleared his throat and looked at her, waiting for her to come closer.

Celeste walked to his desk and the last two students had already left the classroom, leaving only the two of them; she didn't want to appear nervous, she didn't have to be.

—You signed up during the academic break as an apprentice to some teacher at the beginning of the school year —Celeste quickly processed the information while he made eye contact with her—, well Burton, I'll be your mentor, is that okay?

—Oh, sure, I didn't know I had been selected… it's a pleasure, Professor Bang.

Chris gave her a smile and observed her, her still and straight posture with her hands together against her jeans.

—Yes well, the other students applied for classes with other teachers, but you were selected as my apprentice, I heard you're the best in the class.

Chris raised his eyebrows waiting for a reaction from her to his last comment and suddenly he realized that he was starting to ramble, he didn't understand why he did it. He shook his head slightly and tried to refocus.

—I want to discuss schedules. Wednesday is general rehearsal, so I like discipline, how about Monday to Friday excluding Wednesday, from 1 to 4? It'll be in the music room, for tomorrow.

Chris looked at her intently and Celeste began to think… she would have to shorten her work hours if she said yes, she couldn't miss the opportunity, it would be so beneficial to her resume, she wants to believe that he is a good teacher in terms of his knowledge and being his apprentice could lead her to expand her mind. But she would have to sacrifice a few hours of work; despite being sunk in sadness, she liked the little things like makeup, clothes, going to nice cafes, visiting the cinema alone, all without having to ask her parents for money at her twenty years old, so being his apprentice would only mean a little less pay, and working with him, or for him, for free.

Celeste thought for a second about how young he looked to be a mentor, she wondered if he was really qualified.

—You can’t…? —he interrupted her, expecting an answer.

—Oh, sure, yes, I'll be there. Thank you.

She smiled at him and Chris returned the gesture. Celeste was about to leave when the female desire to play a little took over.

She was steps away from walking through the door, but she turned, with a playful smile she searched his gaze, Chris was drawn to her sudden movement thinking that maybe she had forgotten to say something.

—By the way, Mr. Bang, did you just move to Woollahra? —he looked at her with a slight furrow of his brow and she continued— Oh, I didn’t want to sound weird; I just think we're neighbors now too. So, welcome.

Her tone was so sweet and innocent yet somehow wicked; Chris recognized the slight intentions of approach.

She left and left him sure of one thing, that it was her, the pretty and poor girl who cried through her window the night before. Chris swallowed, she's even prettier up close, he thought.

--------------------------

₊˚⊹ ᰔ TAGLIST: @forklesschowder @bubblebisk @calisnewworld @sunarins-whore @bangchansslut6 @snowyquokka @chansbabygirlsstuff @athforskz @heeyboooo @chrizzztopherbang @yerijaksel @moonlightndaydreams @readr1221 @skzswife

lmk if u want to be add 2 the taglist☆

2nd divider by chilumitos, i dont rmber by who the first one oop

[hereissomething]

🎉HAPPY JERMAVERSARY TO THE JERMA DOLLHOUSE🎉

In celebration of this groundbreaking 3 day stream event's 1 year anniversary, I have made some planner stickers of our beloved living sim and his pals!

I will be selling these sticker sheets at ACFI this October 13-15, and will make them available online when I come back!

VIVA LA DOLLHOUSE!!!

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite DAVE YORK Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

PART 1

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Desperation - @theywhowriteandknowthings

Dollhouse, Broken Sleep & Wonderful Tonight Featuring Frankie Morales - @psychedelic-ink

Bound For Carnage Series - @psychedelic-ink

Scotch & Cherry - @ghostfanwriter Tutor!Reader

I Can Barely Breathe, True North & Anchor - @yespolkadotkitty

My Girl Featuring Frankie Morales, Your Taste I Crave, Sharpshooter, Kinktober 22 Lactation & After Hours - @foli-vora

Just A Piece - @palioom

The Cabin In The Woods Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3 - @xdaddysprincessxx Dark!Dead Dove

Dave York Masterlist - @absurdthirst So many good ones on there!

Isn't She A Doll? - @proxima-writes

Three Days - @massivedreamer CartelBossF!Reader

Revenge, Stupid Little Heart & Drabble 1 - @toomanystoriessolittletime

Amarum & A Healing Touch - @juletheghoul

Red & Unholy Series - @alwaysdjarin

Summer Schooled Series Featuring Joel Miller, You Say Hate But I Think You Mean The Other Thing Series & Dave Masterlist - @boliv-jenta

My Best Friend's Dad Series & Dave York Masterlist - @whiskeynwriting

The Senator's Daughter Series - @detectivecarisi-1 Bodyguard!Dave

The Secrets We Keep - @wildemaven

The Violence Of You, Dark!Dave Ropes, Reckless, Pitch Black Series Blind!OFC, Stay With Me, Intimidation Tactics Series Featuring Marcus Pike & Special Virgin!Reader - @whataperfectwasteoftime

A Valentine's In Reverse - @littlebirdsbookshelf

1k Smut Sensation Thigh Riding - @thetriumphantpanda

Antagonists - @getitoutofmymindwrites

Thirteen Days Series - @josephquinnswhore

Two For One - @suzdin Featuring Max Phillips

Drown In Your Wrath & Fury & You Made Me A Villain - @movievillainess721

Appreciation Series F!Nanny Reader, The Storm, Religious Corruption Series Virgin!Reader, Silent, This Is Me Trying Series Surgeon!Dave, & A Little Taste - @pedropascalsx

The Good, The Bad & The Naughty, Attending Mr York Series, One Week With Dave York Series, & Cherry Kisses - @popcornforone

Precious Possessions Series - @exquisiteserotonin

Emptiness - @deadhumourist SoftDom!Dave

Desires & Complications Series - @ezrasbirdie Featuring Marcus Pike

Notes On Tutoring Series - @honestly-shite Music College AU

Assistance - @adancedivasmom

Mine - @theewokingdead F!NannyReader

Needs & Wants - @thefloorisbalaclava

Interrogation - @secretwriterpp Dark/Violence Featuring Frankie Morales

Yours, Rulebreaker, Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) & Temptation - @wheresarizona

Eres Mia Series - @loslentesdepedrito Featuring Marcus Pike

Kinktober Day 4 Breath Play - @moralesispunk

Satisfy Me - @whiskeyncoke-redux

Desired Punishment Series Dark!Dave & Office Rendezvous - @coastielaceispunk

Burnt Honey - @pedrito-friskito

Risk - @katareyoudrilling

Larks & Katydids - @kiwisbell AO3 Link

Daddy Dave Masterlist - @pintsizemama

Volatile - @javier-pena

Dave Request - @radiowallet

Façade - @furious-rogue-stuff

Killer Writing Series - @wardenparker

[sweetracha]

Dollhouse Chapter 1: God Meets Barbie

Product Details: Physiological Horror, Angst & Manipulative Fluff

Choking Hazard: Themes of stalking and premeditated crimes, kidnapping, obsession, Stockholm syndrome, delusional fantasies, and illusions to murder

A special thank you to my beautiful bug @goblinracha. This crazy dream world would not be a reality without you. Thank you for staying by my side all this time. Love you bug 💗

Spring flowers bloomed like paint on a blank canvas. Yellow tulips bleed into red roses, accented by violets and stark white daisies. A handcrafted bench sat in a stone clearing, outlined by dewy moss. The setting of the tea shop was perfect for Minho. Every day after work he would visit the small business, get his cup of tea and a blueberry scone, then sit on his bench. So, one day when someone was in his spot he stopped in his tracks. He was about to tell you to leave, that you were ruining his daydream. But then, the light hit your face just right.

Honey gold sunlight dripped from your features. He could tell your skin was soft as silk. Your hair was framed by a beautiful white bow. The dress you wore reminded him of a romantic picnic. It was strawberry red with white squares. The way it flared at your waist gave the most stunning illusion. The skirt pillowed your lap where your smooth legs crossed over one another. Sweet little high heels sat on your feet. The femineity that emanated from your stature excited Minho. A poetry book perched in one hand while a cup of herbal tea sat in the other. You looked like a doll to him—the most beautiful Barbie doll.

He couldn’t help but stare at you, so lost in your own little world. Minho wondered what words you read when your red-lined lips turned up into a sweet smile. What made your pretty cheeks blush all of a sudden? When you paused and looked around, were you deep in thought about the poetic words before you? Questions slowly began to morph into worries. Were you safe? Why would a dolly be by herself in public? Someone could hurt you! Someone could break you! What if you got a scratch on your sweet skin? If no one was going to collect you, he would. Minho would be a perfect God controlling your world so nothing could come near you. God’s plan takes time, Minho knew you were worth the wait.

The first step in his plan? To get a copy of the book you were reading. He must admit the poems were crafted beautifully, however, some of these words were too big for a dolly such as yourself to understand. How could you understand the concept of love if Minho wasn’t showing it to you? He bets no one had ever loved you the way a doll was meant to be cherished. Soon enough he began seeing you every day, even coming 10 minutes earlier just to be there when you arrived. Minho stopped sitting at the bench deciding it was truly meant for you. His routine was always the same. He would sit down at the metal garden table and wait for you to walk in. Some days you even flashed him a little smile and a wave. You were handcrafted perfection. Then once you sit down and pull out your book, Minho would jot down the tea you were drinking. You always left the tag handing out, silly girl. The chart was neat with tallies keeping track of your favorites. Recently you began enjoying a berry hibiscus blend over your typical honey camomile, he believed it was for the changing seasons. Then after you were fully immersed in the world of your book, Minho would get up to grab his order. This meant he would have to walk behind you and smell your perfume, florals, and sugar-coated berries. He couldn’t get too distracted however, he was on a mission. Mentally Minho would take note of what page you were on. Once he had his order in hand and made his way back to his table, he pulled out his copy. Obviously, he put a different book sleeve over the original, Dolly couldn’t know he was watching her. God just had to make sure his dolly wasn’t reading anything her glass eyes shouldn’t see.

Spring finally turned to summer, and day in and day out Minho fell more and more in love. He was convinced at this point you were purposely picking love poems just for him. You were skipping multiple pages just to re-read the words you chose for him. His favorite poem was the one in which the lover declares that he is forever devoted to his lady love. Minho saw it as a confession, that you wanted this just as much as he does. Even the love interest in the story described you as a picture-perfect match…almost too accurately. Something felt off to Minho.

Something was wrong, something was very wrong right now. He heard the classic click of your heels on the stone pathway as you took your rightful display. Minho looked up to see what outfit you decided to grace him with today, soon his emotions soured. The tight black cocktail dress hugged your body in ways that he did not approve of. He did not like how the sleeves fell off your shoulders, exposing your bare skin to the harsh light. It was far too short to cover your silky legs, leaving you open to being scuffed up. No not his dolly! His dolly was limited edition, 1 out of 1 ever made. You would never do this on purpose. Who was corrupting his prized possession?

His answer soon walked in dressed like the definition of a prick. Tall lanky features strolled in, taking up too much sunlight. A mop of blonde and brown curls sat heavily at the front of this head. Thin round frames circled his deceiving eyes. The combination of brown slacks and a red sweater assaulted Minho’s vision. Then the foul creature of a man stopped at you. Not only did he stop in front of Minho’s love, but he also had the nerve to talk to you. Then he dared to sit down next to you. The sounds you made as the creature attacked your exposed skin were clearly a call for help. Despite you clearly not wanting him around, it kissed you. You were in so much shock you didn’t pull away.

Infuriated and filled with rage Minho got up and stormed behind you two, tripping on his way. Minho smirked on his way down to the cobblestone as his tea flew from his hand, straight onto the beast. He shot up with a roaring yell and you quickly followed suit. However, instead of inspecting the man who had you trapped, you went to the poor soul laying on the floor.

“Are you okay?” you reached out a hand to the stranger. Minho gladly accepted it.

“I'm fine, just tripped over some loose pathway” He replied like it wasn’t all planned.

“Oh, they can be such a hassle! My heels get stuck every day” Your giggle was like a master symphony. “I should go check on him if you are alright.” All Minho did was nod in response and bask in your glow as you graciously smiled at him while bidding goodbye.

Minho stood and straightened himself out. You were worth a few cuts to the hands, you were worth all the pain in the world. On the bench next to a soiled napkin laid an unassuming notebook. One Minho had never seen you carry before, it must be that awful man Minho thought. He would do you a favor and take it far away. It probably contained information not suited for a dolly such as yourself. Minho decided it was better to leave early today. That way he can spend more time figuring out how to save you. He could tell by the glint in your eye you were a damsel in distress.

Later that night as Minho was preparing to go to sleep, something intoxicated his mind. There was a voice telling him, not commanding him, to read the notebook. Whatever was inside was vital to your rescue. When he cracked open the worn leather bindings he was appalled at what he read. Word for word, line for line, beat by beat, tempo by tempo, this notebook followed your poetry. The stories you picked for Minho to read were embedded on the pages in front of him, not in print, but in ink.

Minho rummaged through his bag to find his own copy, the one with the false cover. Like something from a nightmare, he analyzed the covers. The ‘property of’ label identically matched the author's signature. That's why the poems seemed so specific, why they painted the pure image of his lady love. You were the muse behind the pen. Enraged Minho threw the book against the wall, shattering a glass frame in the process. He didn’t take kindly to theft and being a criminal meant consequences.

It hurt Minho to see the glass tears fall down your splotchy face. Another bootleg dress was now soiled in mascara. He knew why your face glistened in sadness. That foul beast tricked you into a false sense of love and it's hard for him to continue his games when he is 6 feet in the ground. Like a perfect God, however, where there is death there is life. From the cracked foundation of your heart, he would grow a royal garden.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind but something seems to be troubling you” Minho stands beside you with silk cloth in hand. He reached out to offer you a small gift.

“Oh-Hi sorry for ruining your tea time. I am okay.” The sniffles that left you made Minho smile wickedly.

“Sweetheart, I can tell something is wrong. I know I am just a stranger but I am also willing to listen” He took a seat next to you. He buzzed in excitement at his proximity to your beauty.

“You aren’t a stranger” Your light blush looked stunning on you. Minho will remember that shade for the future. “I see you here all the time. Honestly, I should thank you for spilling tea on that asshole yesterday” That giggle could cure all diseases.

“Oh? You two seemed happy yesterday” His questioning tone was laced with sarcasm.

“Yeah, I thought so too! Then I show up today to a breakup poem. A POEM! What kind of artsy shit would break up through a poem!” A poem that Minho deliberately crafted for hours after analyzing all of that creature's writings.

“That's awful! Here, you tell me all about it and I’ll listen” The blush on your face deepened as he took the cloth from you are dried your sculpted face. “Im Minho by the way”

“Y/n”

“That is a lovely name, Doll”

Before either of you realized then summer weather began to be followed by a chilling breeze. The trees that surrounded the courtyard colored the atmosphere with browns, yellows, and reds. Day in and day out you were comforted by the sweet man you knew as Minho. You couldn’t deny the butterflies he gave you. Those bunny teeth that flashed through his smile and his cat-like antics made you swoon. He would fight you on every little thing but immediately follow it up with a lingering hug. Even the nicknames he gave you made you feel special. Dolly, he always called you Dolly. Oh, how you wished to be HIS dolly but you weren’t sure if he even felt the same way. It was clear Minho guarded his emotions. Something was off with him but in a charming and curious way. If only you could peek into that mind of his.

Storm clouds erased the sky while cracks of lightning rang in the distance. What started as the little pitter-patter of droplets on stone became a downpour. Minho couldn’t tell if the thumbing in his ears was the sound of hail or his own heartbeat as you snuggled into him for protection. He covered you as best he could with his jacket, not wanting your custom paint job to smudge. Fixing your hair might take some work, and the outfit is better off trashed than repaired, but Minho was willing to do anything to keep his doll pristine. He caged you in a tight embrace as another boom of thunder came too close for comfort.

“Dolly, I think we better get you somewhere warm and dry. Poor thing you are shaking” He wished he could transfer all his heat to you, blue wasn’t the color he assigned to you. No, you were pinks, blushes, peaches, and roses. “Let’s go back to my place, hm? I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

Minho’s house was the same on the inside as he was on the outside. Cozy, quiet, a little unassuming, but absolutely charming. Soft browns and ivory whites seemed to be the palate of choice. You sat at the oak table waiting for him to come back from the kitchen. Your hands felt the grooves closely, Minho sure had an attention to detail even if he didn’t show it. He wore the same pair of gray joggers and a white tee almost every day. You wondered how many identical copies he owned.

“I had it made back when I lived in Korea, an old friend of mine is a woodworker” he broke you out of your spell. The cup of tea he set in front of you was an odd color, candy pink with the smell of something like medicine. You weren’t going to be rude, however, maybe his choice of tea was just unusual.

“It’s beautiful Minho” he smiled as you sipped some more.

‘Not as beautiful as you, Dolly”

You didn’t know how to react, a deep dark blush taking hits place on your cheeks.

“There is that blush I love so much. My pretty pink princess.” was it just you or did the room seem to be getting blurry? A loud thumb snapped you out of your hazed thoughts.

“What was that?” When did your voice become slurred?

“Oh, probably an old piece in this house settling. Doll you look sleepy, why don’t you shut your eyes.” You wanted to protest but the weight of your eyelids was unbearable at this point. As your head rushed to the table you caught a glimpse of something familiar. Was that your ex’s journal on Minho’s bookshelf?

“Shhhhh good girl Dolly, go to sleep. Mommy is about to show you your real world, Barbie.”

The headache you woke up with was unbearable, maybe the weather got to you more than you thought. You blinked at what sleep was still left in your eye and tried to take in your surroundings. When blue and pink hues spotted your vision in blinding circles you were scared. This can’t be Minho’s room. Speaking of Minho, where was he? You believed you could see a figure sitting on the bed in front of you…almost posed. Now that your sight was clearing you saw hands folded in their lap. Their feet were perfectly pointed forward and their back was pin-straight.

“Minho? Minho! Where am I? Minho please!” You cried out but only got a curious hum back. Then the figure looked panicked.

Next, you could make out what he was wearing. This was something you never in a million years could have seen him in. An oversized white sweater with a brown vintage teddy printed on the front. Blue cotton overalls were buttoned up but one strap hung loose. Frilly blue socks sat on those pointed feet. Then came his hair, soft brown, unlike Minho’s dark chocolate. The hair pillowed in volume, it looked soft to the touch. Finally, you saw his face. He wore a joyful smile similar to a patient kid on their birthday. Brown eyes look in every last detail.

‘WHO ARE YOU” you scrambled back behind the bed.

“I um…I…” he stuttered as if he couldn’t speak, or rather, wasn’t allowed to.

You tried to study the room, to plot your escape but your senses were overwhelmed. Surrounding the mystery man-child was a sea of blues. He sat on a star-themed bed and was now cuddling a fuzzy white star pillow for comfort. It was blue for as far as your eyes could see, then you looked down. Not only down but up, side to side, and behind. You wanted to scream at the assault of pink to the mind. The bed you awoke in was almost identical to the other but where there were stars, there were now hearts. You even had a fluffy white heart pillow waiting for you. Actually, their two sides were exactly identical. Blue walls and pink walls. Blue desk and pink desk. Blue makeup and pink makeup. Even blue and pink waste bins. You started to panic.

“Barbie barbie please calm down” Your eyes darted to Minho walking into the horror show. You slowly backed to the Pepto wall. So the stranger was named Barbie?

“Mommy, she is scared” You cringed at the whining concern in ‘Barbie’s’ voice.

“Ken it's okay, Mommy is going to get it all fixed. Mommy always makes everything better, right? Be a good boy and stay here while Mommy tried to talk to our pretty doll”

Ken? If his name was Ken…then who was Barbie. As if written in a script, your eyes flashed to the wall behind your bed. Big white letters spelled “B-A-R-B-I-E”. You were Barbie.

“Minho what is this? Where are we? Who is that—” your frantic game of 20 questions was cut short.

“Mommy.”

“Huh?”

“I am Mommy” His voice was cold without any room for negotiation. “This is Ken” the softer man gives you a sweet wave. He felt safe to you, you weren’t sure why. “And you, my dear, are Barbie”

“I’m y/n!! What are you on Minho! This isn’t you! Haha funny joke, but its over now.” The hysterically frightened laughter that left you scared even yourself.

“Barbie” with each step forward, you sunk lower. “Why is this not me? This is what I’ve been planning all along. This world I created is for you, for you and Ken to enjoy. I will do nothing but love you here. I will love you, cherish you, care for you; Barbie I will do everything for you! You will never have to lift a pretty finger again! Work is gone, heartbreak is over!” he stooped in front of your trembling body. Slowly Minho kneeled as if you were a hurt animal.

You fought with your mind. A part of you wanted to kick him and run. Another part wanted to take his outstretched hand. It mimicked the one that dried your tears many weeks ago. Did he cause those tears? You were sure what was real and what wasn’t. Why was he looking at you like that? Like he truly loved you. What kind of sick person would do this to someone they loved? What if this is what love was? What if he was true love?

No! Snap out of it, he kidnapped you! He probably kidnapped the poor boy who you were pretty sure wasn’t named Ken. Minho was twisted in the head! You wished you never wondered what went through his mind when he looked at you. This is what he saw. You were nothing more to him than some doll to take his fantasies out on.

But then why did Ken look so happy? Why did he wear that goofy shy smile on his face? Why did he keep asking Minho if you were okay? Did he worry he was the one scaring you? Ken looked normal besides his tailored clothes and abnormal positioning. Did he want to be here? Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

“Barbie, get out of that pretty head of yours. Here, stand up. Let Mommy help you.” Your hand gravitated towards his against your will.

“Minho-”

“Mommy.”

“Min-”

“Mommy, Barbie. It’s Mommy”

“Mi-”

“MOMMY!” that was the first time you ever heard him shout. You coiled back at his sharp tone.

“Mommy…Please explain what this all is…”

“Oh, my sweet innocent Barbie. This is your world. My whole life I’ve been looking for the most unique dolls to love and care for. I met Ken a while back at work. The poor boy lost his job and I felt it deep inside me that it was meant to be. When he came to live with me our lives just fit. He was made for me. Then I saw you, and I felt the same. You are so precious, made of glass my love. I can see right through you. Every emotion is worn on your sleeve. The world was not right for you. So I created a new one. All I ask is that you follow the rules. Be a good doll for Mommy, and Mommy will love you endlessly.”

Your doe eyes met his dark ones. Once again Minho left you lost. Would you ever be able to read him? This offer was tempting and you had no clue why. You felt your heart tighten in your chest at the thought of staying, but it also broke at the thought of leaving him. However, with the look on Ken’s face, you were pretty sure you didn’t have a choice. You would play for now. Barbie could be anything right? Then Barbie will play the role written for her. Only until she could find a way out.

“Doll, let me show you what your world has to offer” Minho pulled you in like a dancer. He got close to your ear and whispered “Let us love you.”

@smally97 @lixiesweetbrownie @seo--changbin @lyramundana @j-onedrabbles @hyuniebeez @jisunglyricist @chvngi @hanjisunginc @whatudowhennooneseesyou @sugarmelin @felixsramen @koala-wonderland @lookitsjess @lxerhan @dwaekki081199 @camixiez @dutchessskarma @stvrfir3

You lay in bed designated for you. Intoxicated by battling emotions, you just stared at the pink void of the ceiling. How were you ever going to get sleep now? Does anyone even know you were gone? Maybe Minho took care of them too. Pent-up frustration brimmed in your eyes. "Han" the creaking floors sounded like they spoke.

"My name is Han" You looked over to the other bed to see the sweet man beginning to turn away.

Before you could turn back around a faint buzz caught your attention. Opening the drawer you found a mysterious phone and a text from Minho to a group chat called "Dollhouse" as well as the list of rules Minho promised you. Following them meant eventual freedom, you needed to remind yourself. The phone couldn't do much besides call and text both Mommy and Ken...Minho and Han. You tossed it in the drawer and turned back, hoping to get a little rest.

Laying face up in the pink bedside table, the phone was brought to life.

Incoming message from

<censored>

<click to decode message>.

[mrsmarlasinger]

The surreal thing about the Titan submersible: unless someone pulls off a miraculous last-minute rescue, when we all wake up tomorrow, those five men will be dead.

I mean, assuming they haven't already hyperventilated the last of their oxygen or imploded in a hull failure event.

It's currently June 22nd, 1:48 AM, MDT. If they're still alive, they will not be within the next...what, three hours? Give or take. And it would take hours to get the sub to the surface if it were found miles underwater, so if it's at the bottom of the sea, that really gives the rescuers...I don't know, like, maybe an hour to pull off the impossible?

These men are about to cross the event horizon.

When the banging sounds were first reported, it blew my fucking mind. I'd been certain that they were dead already, or that if they weren't, they would be soon. Without question. Then came this bizarre, impossible glimmer of hope. And I thought, if those sounds really were occurring at thirty-minute intervals, if it really was the Titan passengers, then maybe—maybe—they had a chance.

But they just...don't. Let's be realistic: they're about to die. We know this. We know for a fact that their time is about to run out.

And I know people are angry about the Missing White Woman Syndrome feel of it all. It would make for such on-the-nose satire. Five wealthy men have the world on pins and needles; where was that energy when hundreds of refugees drowned off the coast of Greece a week ago?

It frustrates me that I'm so invested in the Titan sub. It's like the entire incident was orchestrated for the sole purpose of grabbing attention (of course I don't believe that's the case). The very premise of the sub is tauntingly ridiculous—so very blatantly an expensive suicide. I saw someone compare it to an Onion article, and it IS.

The shitty video game controller, the ominous waiver, Stockton Rush's portentous comments (hell, even his name), the toilet sat right in front of that tiny dollhouse window. The absurd price tag paired with a history of failed dives and an OceanGate employee fired and sued years ago for raising safety concerns.

God, it's so dumb. It's so so fucking dumb. In real life, what we'd call "foreshadowing" is really just actions→consequences. But still. Still. It reads like sitcom writers setting the dominos for a season finale, tirelessly working to maximize memeability so we can all point and laugh with our popcorn.

The sheer pointless, brainless, wasteful extravagance of it all makes it easy to forget how horrific and tragic the ordeal really is. It grants us some strange permission to rubberneck.

And, well, who wouldn't want to rubberneck? The drama. Horror movie levels of repulsion. Any fear you can imagine—the dark, the cold, the ocean, suffocation, confined spaces, death—all wrapped into one perfect, cinematic nightmare. It's a black comedy: dumbassery punished by a fate we don't, shouldn't, wish even on billionaires.

Then, of course, there is the deadline. Pun not intended.

That, I think, is what's really gripped us. The limited oxygen supply is a countdown, a ticking time bomb. Ten minutes left in the movie—can the protagonist pull off a daring escape in time?

God, I know I sound like one of those crisis actor conspiracy theorists, but you couldn't manufacture a more gripping story if you tried. That hard figure we've seen in every news article: 96 hours. Ninety-six hours to save the day.

Can you see the Netflix docudrama now? The cuts to a black screen with the remaining number of hours emblazoned in the center? "If we don't find that sub tonight, those men are dead," some intrepid rescuer says...a split second of grave silence...then the scene goes black, except for a line of heavyweight white text that reads, in all caps, "SIX HOURS REMAINING." Next we'll see a heart-wrenchingly candid conversation between the passengers, for character development.

You know Channel 5 is airing a documentary about the Titan in the UK tomorrow. Tonight, actually, since I guess it's technically Thursday morning. The countdown was so hard-set, ITN calculated the exact hour at which they could broadcast their production. The perfect moment for them to capitalize on that post-curtains melancholy we all get at the end of a movie.

It's crass, but fascinating, too. Is ITN going to acknowledge their production timeline by leaving the documentary's ending ambiguous, a choice which will ring bittersweet when aired in the aftermath of the inevitable deaths? Will they scramble to concoct an ending in those mere hours after the passengers asphyxiate? Have they already made two endings: one in case of a miracle, and one in case of a tragedy? Any answer is soulless.

But all of this is soulless. The Titan is our gladiator fight, our bread and circuses. Still, I can't stop staring, because I cannot wrap my head around it. It's 3:30 AM now. Within hours, they will be dead, sure as an execution.

Few news stories come with such a grim deadline. Almost always it's a nail-biting rescue whose twists and turns we follow until some hitherto-unpredictable endpoint; or a sprawling clusterfuck of tragedy trailed by aftermath upon aftermath; or a search for a missing person that eventually meanders into a quiet presumption of death.

The certainty blows my mind—the finality of it, the tragedy of it, is incomprehensible. It doesn't feel real. Why do I care so much? Those men were dead from the start (if not literally, then certainly figuratively). Why do I keep reading about it, posting about it? Why can't I stop watching the car wreck smolder? What am I doing still standing in the street?

I hate that I fell prey to the submarine story like everyone else with an internet connection. But whatever deity may or may not exist got bored, I guess, and crafted the dramedy-action-horror hybrid of the year. Even wove in little cliffhangers (the banging! On the sonobuoys! There's still time!) to string us along like a damn HBO producer.

It gets me, man.

It's 4:00 AM, MDT. I guess it's really over, huh? I know 96 hours was never an exact deadline, but let's not be idealistic here.

I hope it was quick. I hope they imploded in a single terrible instant.

I hope the next sunken boat of six hundred refugees wins as much attention as the Titan did.

I hope Netflix doesn't make that docudrama with the black screen and the all-caps line of heavyweight white text.

I hope we sleep. I hope I sleep. I hope we all can sleep.

[xbabyd0lli3x]

Shadows of the Dollhouse- Spencer. R- Part 1

tw-kidnapping, case stuff, A

As the team gathered in the BAU conference room, tension hung heavy in the air. Hotch leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the whiteboard covered in photos and notes.

"We're dealing with a highly intelligent and manipulative unsub," he said gravely. "They seem to anticipate our every move."

Emily shook her head in frustration. "It's like they're always one step ahead of us. How do we combat that?"

Spencer spoke up, his voice tinged with worry. "We need to be vigilant and anticipate their next move. But we also need to prioritize protecting each other, especially Y/N."

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in their chair, feeling the weight of Spencer's concern. "I appreciate the sentiment, Spencer, but we're all in this together," they said, trying to mask their fear.

The room fell into a contemplative silence until Rossi broke the tension. "Let's focus on what we do best: profiling. We need to get inside this unsub's head, figure out what makes them tick."

But despite their best efforts, the threats continued to escalate. Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the constant fear that "A" was always watching, always waiting.

One evening, as they sat in the dimly lit bullpen, Y/N received another ominous email. Spencer glanced over, noticing the subtle shift in their demeanor.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, concern etched into his features.

Y/N hesitated before showing him the message. "It's from 'A'... they know where I live," they admitted, voice trembling.

Spencer's jaw clenched as he read the chilling words on the screen. "We'll increase security measures. I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed, squeezing Y/N's hand reassuringly.

But despite their precautions, tragedy struck. Y/N and several other agents were abducted, leaving the team reeling with shock and desperation.

Weeks passed with no sign of their whereabouts, each lead leading to a dead end. Spencer refused to lose hope, his determination fueled by his love for Y/N.

Then, finally, a breakthrough came. The team discovered the location of "A's" lair, a grim fortress hidden in plain sight.

As they stormed the compound, adrenaline coursing through their veins, they found Y/N and their fellow agents, battered and broken, but alive.

Spencer rushed to Y/N's side, his heart breaking at the sight of their injuries. "Y/N, I'm here. You're safe now," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

In the days that followed, as Y/N struggled to come to terms with their ordeal, Spencer remained a constant source of support. He held them close, offering silent comfort in their darkest moments.

Together, they began the long road to recovery, their bond stronger than ever before. And as they faced the challenges ahead, Y/N knew that with Spencer by their side, they could conquer anything.

[xleeleeboox]

Bat!eddie

@ddejavvu wanted bat!eddie stuff so here you go I thought others would appreciate it too ❤️🦇

- As a bat, it is now the only time he willingly eat fruit, loves bananas, frozen blueberries, yessss mangoes too

- He refuses when his friends give him bugs, he gets mad and “attacks” them lol befriends the bugs

- Actually only squeaks but everyone knows Eddie well enough that they know what he’s gonna say, especially Dustin, and Robin for some reason so you can just seem them arguing with him

- Stays in your room while you are getting dressed because even if he’s a bat, some things never change, and yes he could change back to his human form but he likes it when you don’t know 💀 he lurks

- Loves pockets and purses, sleeps all day long and it’s so warm in the pocket, please be careful though one time he was chilling in Steve’s shirt pocket but he bent down to pick something up too quick and a sleeping Eddie tumbled out, bat eddie doesn’t just stay in your pockets, he hangs onto your back pocket so he can hold onto your butt :))))

- Acts like a baby please read him bedtime stories he loves being in a blanket but when he wants the real deal, he turns human again and cuddles with you

- Doesn’t really like flying around outside because other bats are scary to him

- Dustin probably keeps bat eddie at his house and got a little dollhouse for him 💀

- Eddie didn’t “talk” to dusting for a week you come over and paint it like a haunted house, now he’s actually gonna sleep in it and everything it’s cute

- You-1, Dustin-0

- when bat Eddie is taken to hellfire, he doesn’t dm but he does do a little live action shit and pretends to be a dragon, or he will swoop in and knock over the little figurines, straight up steals Gareth’s probably doesn’t give them back, he keeps them in his dollhouse :)

- Is potty trained in his bat form other wise he will shit on people he doesn’t like because he’s not above that 😂

- Gets soooo excited when you keep him updated about all his favorite artists, flies around and head bands with a Barbie microphone and guitar

- You stole doll clothes and stuff from Holly and Erica lmaoooo

- You try to dress Eddie but he bites

- Yeah he bites

- Robin stays far away from him when he’s agitated

- Dustin being a real one and letting him loose in the school so he can terrorize all the people that terrorized him

- Bat Eddie stays being a menace

—————

Idk this is just what I thought of, I was also at work when I did this 😭

[yanderecrazysie]

i just read confine for like the fiftieth time anyways reques: pt. two of confine (take as long as you need it’ll end up great in the end and it doesn’t have to be long or anything it could be a drabble but yk do what you want it’ll be amazing💌)

Fun fact: Confine is my most popular story (and post in general) on Tumblr! I’ve always been surprised by that, since I have ones I personally like a lot more and because Betray gets a lot more interaction! But I do have a soft spot in my heart for Confine!

And thank you for being so sweet and not rushing me or anything!

Part 1 is here

Title: Confine (Part 2)

Pairings: Ushijima x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, misogyny

Summary: Ushijima would like to extend your trip to the countryside from a couple months to forever. He’d also like you by his side. Unfortunately, your preferences aren’t necessary.

confine

/verb/

restrain or forbid someone from leaving (a place).

 The frilly pink apron you wear feels suffocating.

Had you been given a choice, you would never put something like that on your body. Too bad your opinion was irrelevant in this place.

While Ushijima was gone, you were finally allowed to breathe a little. But not by much, for you were never sure when he’d return, demanding your attention and making sure you’d behaved yourself the way he wanted you to.

If he were to walk in around dinnertime and dinner wasn’t on the table, you hate to think how he’d react. If he were to see you cooking without your apron and oven mitts, well, that’d be even worse.

He somehow managed to baby you while still expecting you to do all the housework. It was clear he expected you to play the role of a traditional housewife, but he also panicked if you came close to being hurt while doing so. He still hadn’t forgived himself for the one time you’d spilled a little hot soup on your wrist, leading to the getup you were forced to wear whenever touching anything above “warm”.

Cooking options were limited enough as they were, since you weren’t allowed anything sharper than a butter knife to cut ingredients. It didn’t matter how much or how little you’d known about cooking before being forced through the cabin door- the man had mountains of flashcards with handwritten recipes on them. His mothers’, apparently.

“You have to know how to cook, for your husband and for our children.”

You’d learned long ago to give up on trying to correct him about your relationship status. The delusional man truly believed you two had gotten married, as though his kidnapping of you was the just two of you returning from your honeymoon.

But the phrase “for our children” is what truly haunted you. You didn’t want anything to do with this psychopath, much less have his child. He had never forced unwanted advances on you, but it scared you that he was so sure of this future he had planned for you both.

It was like living in a dollhouse. Wearing a painted-on smile as you greeted him whenever he got home and as you pretended everything was okay. Making sure the house looked absolutely perfect. Never arguing or fighting back.

Ushijima and you would probably look like the perfect couple to any outsider when, in reality, your relationship was built on fear and entrapment. You were stuck with him as long as the chain on your ankle and the locks on the doors remained.

You pulled the meal out of the oven and pulled off the oven mitts while dinner cooled down, wiping your sweaty hands on your apron. You could barely feel relaxed with the anxiety of knowing he’ll return (and what would happen to you if he didn’t?). But whenever he was gone, you felt… free.

You could finally forget about being ripped away from your amazing parents. You could pretend like this house of cards was your own. You could remind yourself that you weren’t Ushijima’s perfect little Barbie doll.

Whenever he decided to come home, you’d have to be at his side in an instant, asking how his day was, but never where he’d gone or what he’d been up to. You’d have to take his coat from him and hang it up, just like a good wife should.

You were sure he’d be home any moment for dinner (you had it at the same time every day, like clockwork), but there was no telling exactly when. The walls were soundproof and there were no windows, so you’d always be kept on your toes, jumping out of your skin when the door swung open.

You wished you could just take a nap.

Softly, and with fear of interruption, you sang to yourself. It was a habit you’d grown used to, and you desperately hoped Ushijima never heard. You didn’t want him to forbid you from it or, worse, demand you sing for him.

He terrified you. You were positive he could rip off your head with just one strong pull from those big hands of his.

You hoped police would swoop in one day and cart him off while freeing you from your prison, but you doubted they had any leads to where you’d gone. You’d simply disappeared while walking home from work, in their eyes.

Did they even care? You knew your parents would worry and know that you didn’t just run away, but the police wouldn’t have that kind of insight. 

You wished you could confide with someone about how frightened you were. Of him, of possible future children, of living this way forever, of dying here. You didn’t want to keep this all to yourself until it bubbled over into something that got you in trouble.

You just wanted-

SLAM

Oh.

Your heart dropped in your chest.

He’s home.

[astoldbychae]

Little fires...everywhere

Papa is putting his Level 8 Parenting skills to the test after a long days work. After picking the girls up from school, He wanted to take them to the splash park and for ice cream, since it was nice out but the little misses had other plans.

Eden threw a tantrum as soon as they made it into the house and kicked her big sister in the shins after being called an alien...

[Like clockwork, Monet was sucking all over Melo's neck once he got in the house (its literally her FAVE thing to do...anyway). Meanwhile, I hear GeGe and Eden fussin'...as I pan the camera over, E is kicking her sister whilst throwing a tantrum. These girls wild out at their mom's house...but Melo does not play that. Sidenote: She somehow changed her outfit but we're gonna ignore that]

After calming little stinka mamas down with huggies (his hugs are her fave) and teaching her to not have meltdowns...

Little Miss Sunshine took it upon herself to make several messes on their kitchen floor, which got her grounded from watching TV for the rest of the day. They had a nice little talk & He influenced her to clean up her mess.

But of course He had to take a moment to brush his shoulders off...C'mon A1 parenting. 🤣

As soon as he turned around to grab a snack, there was a tiny little tap on his leg. Little Mama had finally calmed all the way down and wanted ALL his attention. She babbled about toys and tried to convince him to give her a cookie...but he decided to read her a story instead while they wait for dinner. Needless to say, she's wasn't here for it. That was not apart of her plan.

Dad: 1 // Eden: 0

After dinner, Papa checked in on babygirl as she woke up from her nap (ready to see him of course) and Monet brought Eden upstairs to play with her dollhouse.

As the house began to wind down for the night...

GeGe felt the need to air out her grievances..."Dad! The little alien broke my dollhouse"...

While Papa stepped right in to save the day, Monet dramatically got all the tea on why the little alien broke it in the first place.

I can't with him. W Dad!

I can't with her. Meanwhile, She's all like "my man, my man, my man"...until he received a phone call from Marguerite that she would be there in 25 minutes