#dollmaker image

[livyamel]

Hi! I thought it would be fun to do a Picrew chain with one of my favorite ones ❤️ feel free to join if you want to! Also no obligation to do it if I tag you; it's just for fun :)

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/41329

Tagging @jojo-lolzies @violetdawn001 and anyone who wants to

[electricea]

do you ever just see like a throwback internet image and you can just feel yourself aging by like 80 years lmao.

[mzminola]

Obligatory dollmaker time!

[legoes]

having fun with ponytown so here, have a fankid! her name is obsidia and despite looking kinda intimidating she’s a total sweetheart.

[echthr0s]

tagged by @ikuina-takashi

[ quiz | picrew ]

[tranquilo-antique-apothecary]

"Let the flames consume you."

(this was an excuse to show off my beloved oc that I actually didn't make up on the spot for once-)

[distractionpie]

Ah the joy and horror of actually digging into the archive/backup/new folder (1)/old/stuff pit of folders on my pc only to discover a random assortment of fic fragments going back past 2010

[dewey]

thinking about Geno lifting up his hat to grab something out of it during a battle and the rest of the party just sees either:

a: the orange curls going straight with the hat revealing a completely bald head

or

b: a nearly completely bald head except for 2 orange curls at the front of his head

[oc-tournaments]

This is a blog dedicated to running OC tournaments! A new theme will be decided every time, decided by the followers. The first theme will be chosen by me, and is as follows:

GOD'S FAVOURITE PUNCHING BAG!

Note: Does not need to actually be a God! "God" refers to you, their creator, who enjoys putting them in situations.

To submit an OC, please read the rules below carefully before submitting!

I will be accepting fandom OCs and personal story OCS! However, for personal reasons I will not be accepting Harry Potter/Wizarding World, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss or Homestuck OCs. This rule is firm and will not change.

You must submit a description of your OC and why they're God's favourite punching bag for them to be eligible!

The size of the bracket will be determined by the amount of submissions we receive.

No real people/canon characters can be submitted.

Be civil! ANY hostility towards other people or their OCs will result in being blocked and banned from interacting with any tournaments. This blog is not intended to breed hatred, but to showcase people's OCs and to generate new likings towards them!

You may submit up to three OCs, but only one per form! You will have to name your Tumblr blog to submit an OC, but you can request not to be named in the polls.

Self propaganda is allowed and encouraged, but hate propaganda towards other people's OCs is not allowed under any circumstances.

Your character must have some sort of reference image. Picrews and other dollmakers are allowed, but faceclaims are not.

The closing date for submissions is May 30th!! Please reblog and share to any friends who may be interested in submitting an OC <3

And please bear in mind this is my first tournament blog, so be kind in any criticism you may have of how I run things.

Fill in the form below to submit!

Relevant blogs tagged for reach under cut! So sorry if you didn't want to be tagged, don't feel pressured to reblog <33

@tournament-announcer @variouspolltournaments @sekaicards @the-most-design-of-all-time @autism-rizz-tournament @ocquestionaday

[tsunflowers]

I strongly recommend drawing your ocs even if you think you "can't draw." it feels so good to get an image from your head onto the page. it might not turn out exactly how you want but you can include all the details you think are important. I love dollmakers dearly but sometimes you need to add details and accessories that the creator of the dollmaker never thought of. you can only do that by drawing it yourself

[eletricheart]

hiiii! I have a request for donna beneviento. I was hoping for her lover, the reader, to show up to donna's house like normal, but they are sick with the flu. When donna asks why reader came, reader says that they dont care if they're sick or not, they just want to see donna <3 cue donna being a flustered mess, but then panicking internally when reader lets out a particularly harsh cough. Just some fluffy caretaking if you wouldnt mind, thank youuuuu :) (maybe if you're feeling like writing a longer fic, you could make reader have a fever-induced nightmare, and donna is the only thing that can calm reader))

Fever

(Donna Beneviento x Reader)

*image creds to owner

Word count: 882

ps: ty for the request hope u like it🫶

ps2: not proofread

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

Winter was finally over but the sudden change of temperature was enough to get you sick for a week. Usually you'd stay at home resting however every week you would have a home date with Donna.

Hence why you were walking towards her front porch looking like an Arctic scavenger. The dollmaker was surprised to see your attire but didn't pay much mind until she went to greet you.

You were shaking a little but still removed the mask to smile at her. "Sorry I'm late, my stomach wasn't kind this morning."

Donna nodded and ushered you in, getting concerned with how red your face was. "Are you okay?"

You nodded enthusiastically, supporting yourself with the now closed door due to the rapid movement. "Yeah! Just got a bit of a flu, nothing to worry about."

The dollmaker tensed for a moment, silently commanding her dolls to prepare some tea and bring blankets to the living room. "You should've stayed at home, it's dangerous to walk around sick! What were you thinking?" She questioned, leading you to the room.

You sighed. "I haven't seen you this week. I would rather face a thousand winters then stay away from you for so long. Please forgive me." You said, pouting.

Donna was thankful for wearing her veil, so you couldn't see how flustered she became with just one sentence. "Th-That's nonsense, you don't need to ask for forgiveness. But…next time, just call me."

You laughed. "I will."

After successfully trapping you in a world of blankets, Donna lit the fireplace and sat beside you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You tried to answer but a sudden cough took place so you just nodded while trying to breathe.

You were still okay, you got used to the coughing after the second sick day. However, for Donna you were on death's door. The dollmaker could feel her heart racing, her hands trembling and her eye feeling with tears.

She practically ran off the room leaving your confused self drowning in blankets.

Donna returned with more pillows, some plants from her garden that were for good health, tea, water, a bowl with water and some towels. She even called Mother Miranda, who assured her that in five minutes a crow would leave some medicine at the door.

You were watching her set up a small hospital on the center table with a gentle smile. "Donna, it's okay, I'm not dying, I promise."

The dollmaker shook her head. "You're sick, I need to take your temperature."

You nodded weakly, feeling the hands of Morpheus trying to carry you into the dream world.

Donna was slightly shaking but still managed to check your temperature and breathing. "You have a bit of a fever, I believe Mother will bring some medicine. You should drink some water."

You nodded and drank half a glass of water, settling back down on the couch, in a lying position. "Where's Angie? I thought she'd be trying to steal the blankets from me by now."

Donna chuckled. "I had to lock her in my room. When she heard you were sick she stole a syringe and claimed she'd turn you into her bioweapon."

You laughed, still coughing at the end, but less intensely. However you noticed the dollmaker stiff posture. "I just need to sleep for a second, then it'll be good again."

Donna nodded, kissed your forehead and stood up, getting ready to cool the bowl of water. But she was stopped by you holding her arm before she moved too far. "Please don't leave me, I don't like to be alone."

Donna smiled and removed her veil to lay down more comfortably beside you.

The Lady had only moved away for a few minutes in order to receive Mother Miranda's package, suddenly she heard a scream and rushed back to you.

You were still sitting on the couch, but your face was marked with tears and your entire body felt like it was burning alive. You vision was still blurry from sleep and even though you tried to breathe it felt as if no air was going inside.

Donna approached you gently, trying to not make things worse but the second you saw her you jumped towards the woman and hugged her tight. She guided you back to the couch, not once breaking the embrace.

You curled on her and kept attempting on calming down. She was drawing soothing patterns on your back, humming lowly and controlling her breathing so you could immitate.

It took at least fifteen minutes for you to calm down, holding her as if she was your only connecting with reality.

Donna waited until your breathing had evened to speak. "Can you tell me what happened?" She asked, gently.

You took a deep breath before nodding. "I had a nightmare…I-I don't exactly remember what happened, just the feeling. Then I woke up and you weren't here anymore. I guess I panicked." You closed your eyes tightly and snuggled yourself even more against Donna.

The dollmaker allowed you to lay on her, pulling some of the blankets that fell and covering you. "I'm sorry, I won't leave again."

You nodded. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Your body relaxed and soon enough you fell asleep, knowing that Donna was there to protect you against anything.

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

masterlist

[i-want-my-iwtv]

Anne Rice’s gothic bestselling novel! Pre-order of this illustrated Limited Edition opens soon! 18 May 2pm UK time

www.booksillustrated.com

We have another great reveal to share with you. It is a stunning illustration of Claudia and Madeleine the dollmaker. Anne Yvonne Gilbert has created a beautiful and menacing image showing the fury Claudia feels at being trapped in the body of a child while she begs Louis to make a vampire of Madeleine.

^Louis and Claudia observe this amazing scene on visiting Europe in search of the Old World vampires. 'A beautiful thing it was, though, a splendid animal—a stallion, and pure white'

[hayheadd]

UPDATED clangen pathologic warrior cats... directed at no one in particular. made in dollmaker called clangen catmaker

Anna, Aspity and Var

Grief, Rubin and Lara

Eva, Yulia and Maria

Aglaya, Block and Simon

Murky, Sticky and Taya

Georgiy, Victor and SImon

Grace (with dirty paws), Khan and Notkin

Saburov, Saburova, Oyun

Andrey and Peter Stamatin

Capella, Vlad jr and Big Vlad are in the first one I'm only allowed 30 images.... anyway.... as a fun little bonus

Medicine cats

Snakeheart (Daniil Dankovsky)

Small tortoiseshell tom with white paws, a red spot on his chest and amber eyes

Bullheart (Artemy Burakh)

Massive fuzzy golden tabby tom with blue eyes 

Ratheart / Miracleheart (Clara)

Lanky dilute calico thing with bright yellow eyes

Miracleheart is the name she chose for herself, but everyone calls her Ratheart to mock her instead 

Termiteclan

Stickpaw (Sticky)

Lanky golden tom with green eyes

Murkkit (Murky)

Small lykoi she-cat with blue eyes

Knotpaw (Notkin)

Gray tom with brown spots on his nose and ears, a dog collar around his neck and yellow eyes (Resembles Jester)

Soul-and-a-halves are basically the cat distribution system. They find humans for themselves 

Sparkpaw (sight) (Capella)

Tall ginger she-cat with blue sparkly eyes

Her mom Daystar (Viktoria Olgimskaya)

Elegant long-furred white she-cat with sparkly yellow eyes

Gracepaw (Grace)

Long-furred white she-cat with tired blue eyes and stuff stuck in her fur

Antkit (Taya Tycheek)

Brown and dark ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with bright yellow eyes

Dogpaw (Khan Kain)

Round small dark gray tabby tom with bright blue eyes

Spireclan

Whispersong (Eva Yan)

Elegant round light yellow she-cat with blue eyes 

Newteye (Peter Stamatin)

Cream tom with green eyes 

Newtclaw (Andrey Stamatin)

Cream tom with green eyes 

Scarletsight (Maria Kaina)

Blueish black she-cat with amber eyes 

Her mom Nightstar (Nina Kaina)

Elegant tall long-furred black she-cat with amber eyes

Highstep / Smallspider (Vlad Jr)

Tall dusty gray tom with yellow eyes

Shadowflower (Victor Kain)

Round gray tabby tom with blue eyes

Mistchaser (Georgiy Kain)

Old long-furred silver tom with yellow eyes

Humbleclan

Rockfang (Stakh Rubin) (Rubyfang)

Parcially bald black tom-cat with yellow eyes and fur on his chest, paws and tail 

Riverpebble (Lara Ravel) (Gravelpebble)

Long-furred dark gray with black spots, a fuzzy tail and blue eyes

Sleektalon (Bad Grief) (Owl/Filin)

Small ginger tabby tom with green eyes

Robinsong (Anna Angel)

Dark ginger she-cat with yellow eyes 

Molesight (Katerina Saburova)

Dusty silver and black she-cat spots with bluish gray eyes

Dustwatcher (Alexander Saburov)

Light brownish-gray tom with greenish gray eyes 

Applebird (Yulia Lyuricheva)

Tall golden tabby she-cat with green eyes

Bullface (Foreman Oyun)

Massive brown tabby tom who wears a bull skull and has light blue eyes

Wormleg (Aspity)

Lanky dark brown thing with gray eyes

Other

Thornlily (Aglaya Lilich)

Tall blue she-cat with light green eyes

Ashenstep (Alexander Block)

Dark ginger tom with bright blue eyes and gray paws

Crookedcrouch (Var)

Dark brown crooked tom with one yellow eye and one blind blue eye with a scar over it

Willowblossom (Willow Mellow)

Dark brown she-cat with green eyes

Willowdancer (Nara)

Tall dark blue she-cat with purple eyes

Bigbull (Big Vlad) (I KNOW it's a dumb name but what else is there for Big Vlad.)

Fat ass ginger cat with blue eyes 

Mudheart (Isidor Burakh)

Light brown tom with blue eyes

Skystar/Skychaser (Simon Kain)

Old long-furred white tom with blue eyes

The theatre??? I don't know the??? Silentden the??? Whisperden?

Foulplay (Mark Immortell)

Gray spotted tom with green and blue eyes

Ratcather (RATCATCHER)

Black and white (mostly black) she-cat with blue eyes

Birdfaces (Executors)

Face covered with a raven skull, cloak made of red feathers, flowers and leaves with raven bones sticking out. Usually shown sitting down in the performances, so only the front paws are barely visible beneath the cloak

and Silentfaces (Tragedians)

I don't know where they got the masks

Fellow traveller

Dark brown tom with green eyes

Crimsondove (Aysa Klyonina)

Dark ginger she-cat with a big nose and amber eyes

Viperpool (Farkhad)

Black curly-furred tom with amber eyes

general info/context:

They were the same clan but fell apart (Steppeclan)

Spireclan, Termiteclan And Humbleclan

All medicine cats named -heart

Queens are replacement for in-game mistresses, they're not nursing mothers. They're instead like mothers of the whole clan. There are also queen apprentices that can only be of queen blood. They get -sight names until they become full queens (leaders) and get -star.

Moonspire - Polyhedron (the kits call it the playden), Bullplace - Abattoir, Hollowpool - Cathedral

Polyhedron is made of ice that doesn't melt, Abattoir is made of that kinda ancient brown dusty ice that has diseases in it, Cathedral is a bunch of tall sticks and a puddle (melted ice) (fail)

Herb mates are also another cat class only special kin cats can be apprenticed to. They have -dancer names.

The powers that be are Starclan. Aka the giant kids. No idea how that explains them being like a literal government. Maybe everyone is super religious. I mean maybe god is real. Warrior cats

Daniil was a kittypet that lived in a veterinarian clinic

Rubin was unofficially apprenticed by Isidor, never got the -heart name.

The guardian cats are also in this au. A clan full of medicine cats. This is the place where Daniil lived and Artemy studied, but they didn’t know each other (Capital basically)

The Stamatins are former kittypets and den builders that used to live with the guardian cats.

The army is also another faraway clan that is full of warriors that fight by the orders of Starclan whether they like it or not

[legoes]

corrin nevermind is the eldest child of the royal family in a foreign country and has been engaged to eins since they were children. they got along okay when they were younger, but corrin always felt like eins didn’t like him. during the plot of the series he’s attempting to break off his engagement with eins, though repeatedly failing for one reason or another. he doesn’t actually want to break it off, but he feels like eins won’t like him anymore if comes out.

[schrodingers-romy]

The Dollmaker [Douma x Reader]

Pairing: Douma x fem!reader

Summary: You are a dollmaker; you follow your friend to the Eternal Paradise Cult and are fascinated by its leader, a man who looks much like the dolls you make...

Warnings: ehhh blood? mention of consuming human flesh? honestly below canon typical level.

Word count: ~2,000

Notes: Uh hey yeah so this is the first thing I've really written in a while (aside from brainstorming stuff). I wrote it last night in one manic sitting. I let it languish for a bit, then went back and re-read it. Honestly can't tell if it's good. But I did have fun writing it! So. Debated posting but I figured someone might like it? Idk. Minimally edited as well so read at your own risk ig. *crawls back under my rock*.

[Edit: Ao3 link]

You’re not a religious person. You suppose you might believe in spirits; it’s hard to be a doll maker like yourself and not have some belief in them. But Gods? Prayers? You can’t understand it.

But it’s your disbelief that prompts you to follow your friend to the Eternal Paradise cult. You worry about her; she’s always been the more gullible out of you two, and her family encouraged her belief in gods. The cult is probably just a scam, and you know you need to be there to shield your friend from the worst of the consequences. So, you pass your work off to one of your employees and follow her up to the temple on the mountain.

You feel a sense of foreboding once you enter the temple. The cultists are all dressed similarly; most are women, and young ones at that. You know the cult was primarily marketed towards these people, but it still raises your hackles. You know the cult leader is a man, and these are the people men like to take advantage of the most. You don’t want to be here, but you’re glad you didn’t let your friend go on her own.

It is apparently a slow day within the cult, as you only wait in the bustling reception room for what feels like a few minutes before one of the women tells you that the leader is ready to see you now. She asks if you’d like to go separately; you say no. She nods demurely back, and motions towards the doors.

Once you enter, your eyes are immediately drawn to the man lounging on the platform at the far end of the room. You can’t look away from him.

He smiles, almost benevolently at you two, but it doesn’t reach his multicolored eyes. “Welcome! I am Dōma; what seems to be troubling you, my dears?”

Your friend speaks up, but you tune her out. You’ve already borne the brunt of listening to her problems; you use the time instead to study this Dōma.

He seems so animated. He smiles, his face twists into something sympathetic, understanding. And yet nothing seems to reach his eyes.

As you watch him lift an elegant, pale hand to make a gesture, you realize something. He reminds you of some of your dolls.

He was like a puppet. Crafted lovingly, painstakingly to look like the mirror image of a true human. Skilled hands could make the doll, and skilled hands could manipulate its face and body parts to look human-like. But in the end, the glass eyes of the doll held no emotion, no life. The same was true of Dōma.

You wonder if that’s what it means to be a prophet for the gods. If he’s simply a divine puppet, moved by invisible puppeteers. If an unimaginable being crafted his eyes to be so doll-like, inhuman. Maybe that was how they marked him as other. It would make sense; you’ve never seen eyes like that on anyone else.

You try to listen to what he says. It’s hard, when you keep losing the thread of conversation in favor of watching flashes of sharp, perfect teeth that shine whenever he opens his mouth.

It’s all meaningless platitudes, anyway. Hardly different from what other religious people would say. You take back your assumption about him being a divine puppet. There is no holy wisdom in this man, in this doll.

It makes you wonder who then is puppeteering him if not the gods. Is he simply a spirit, locked in an unnatural body? Who created such a lifelike vessel? For what purpose? To make something, so close to humanity, and yet so far….such craftsmanship you could only dream of achieving with your own dolls.

You get the strange urge to break him open. You wonder what he’s made of, what he looks like on the inside. How was such a thing made?

You are broken out of your haze once he turns to you.

“And you? Why did you come to me?” his eyes are piercing, for glass. You've never seen a doll with eyes so alive, so you waver a moment. Maybe he is a real person? But you’ve never seen a person with eyes so void of true feeling.

You swallow thickly. Your throat is dry. You almost spill your thoughts, and ask him if he is a doll. You stop yourself, thankfully, and stutter out the true response. “I came to be with her. To make sure she was safe.”

He rests his chin on one hand, eyes never leaving you. “Did you think I would hurt her?”

Your friend tries to cut in with a hasty apology on your behalf. You cut her off. “The way up the mountain can be treacherous. What makes you think I was thinking of you?”

He tilts his head in easy acquiescence. “But you were. Don’t worry though! I won’t hurt her!” He gives you a bright smile, and you marvel at the workmanship that must have gone into making him smile so naturally.

You don’t speak, again, only nodding your goodbye to him as you and your friend exit the room.

She almost speaks to you, but something on your face must discourage her. Instead, she asks on of the many cult members bustling around if you two could stay the night.

You are placed in a single room, with two futons. Your friend lies down immediately, making some offhand comments about being exhausted after your journey, and how nervous she felt talking to Dōma. You only half listen to her. Your mind lingers on Dōma, on the living doll this cult calls their leader. You feel more focused on him than you’ve ever felt about anything. There’s something about him that pulls you in.

Even as you lay to sleep, your mind doesn’t stop. You’re so sure he must be a doll, a puppet. Someone who moves like him can’t be human. 

But there is a niggling doubt. Maybe you’re wrong? Maybe this is just what cult leaders look like. Unnatural beauty that draws people in like scavengers to a corpse.

Well, you think to yourself. Only one way to find out.

You get up. Your friend is sound asleep. She has had a long day. You leave her behind as you pad along the vast corridors of the temple. You don’t know where you’re going, but your feet are trying to lead you somewhere, and you let them.

The first door you open is his bedroom door. Surprisingly, he has no guard of any sort. It seems distressingly easy to access him. You would think someone so special and unique that they had their own cult would be worth enough to guard.

But all the better for you, you suppose. You creep farther into his room, until you loom over his futon.

He almost looks more doll-like now. His face is blank with sleep, but it seems less like sleep and more like death. But puppets don’t die; they do lose life, but that’s only when the humans who breathe life into them leave.

Now, he is simply a puppet without a master.

You kneel gently on the futon. He doesn’t even seem to breathe. Another point for the doll theory. You have almost no misgivings now.

You reach out, and brush your fingertips across his cheek. His skin is flawlessly smooth, and icy cold. No living being is that cold.

You trail your hand up to his hair. Its absurdly soft, like silk. You use silk for the hair on some of your dolls as well, but it’s never felt quite that soft.

You didn’t notice before, but there is some sort of stain on the top of his hair. It was mostly hidden under his hat before, but now it is clear. It looks like someone spilled paint on him. It would be seen as a defect on something otherwise so faultless, but even that looks intentional, no drip out of place.

As you study him, you inch closer. You’re basically straddling him now, but you don’t pay much attention to that. Instead, you let your eyes roam over him again. His hands are similarly perfect, with blue nails filled to a point on every finger. You pick up one of his hands to observe them better. You hiss as one of your fingertips catches on his nail. They’re like knives, easily splitting your flesh.

You bring your cut finger up to your mouth, ready to suck away the blood beading on it.

Quick as lighting, a hand grips your wrist. You freeze, shocked, and look up, right into Dōma’s stained glass eyes. You try to pull away, but his grip is as firm as stone. His other hand grips at your hip. You can almost feel his claws through your kimono.

“Now, what do we have here?” he says, his voice a purr. There’s no trace of sleepiness in his tone, and no trace of haziness in his eyes.

Instead, you’re the one who feels sluggish. You gape at him, not saying a word.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head almost like a disappointed mother. But his expression is not motherly at all. It’s mocking, with some sort of hunger beneath it. You think that hunger is the most emotion you’ve ever seen in his eyes. “Now, what were you doing here, in my bed, in the middle of the night, darling?”

You flush at the implication. You’re silent a moment, unsure what to say. You’re not even quite sure yourself why you’re there. You try to answer honestly anyway. “I’m not sure.”

He raises an eyebrow, wordlessly prompting you to elaborate.

Words flood out of you. “I just had to see you again! I don’t quite know why…I think I just want to know what you are. Because I know you aren’t human.”

“What am I, then?”

“You remind me of a doll. I make them. And you look like the dolls I make. You’re meant to look human, but you’re not, not really. Something is just…off. You’re almost too perfect…your skin, your hair, your eyes…no human looks like that. No human behaves like you either...your eyes are like glass. So, so beautiful, yet...they don’t portray the emotion your body tries to make.”

He seems little surprised for a second. He studies you more keenly now. “Well…I can’t say you’re totally wrong.” He smiles, but this time it’s different. It’s more a baring of teeth. You can see now he truly has fangs. He has the mouth of a predator. “I’m not human. But I’m not a doll either, silly girl!”

He pulls you closer, and sits up, until you two are pressed almost chest to chest. Your wrist, still in his hand, is tugged until your bloody finger is pressed to his lips.

“Do you want to know what I am?” he whispers, voice low. His lips move against your finger, smearing your blood on them, tinting them red.

You feel your heart beating faster. You can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement. Your brain feels fuzzy, like you’re drunk. Intoxicated.

You nod.

His tongue stretches out, lapping your blood away from your skin. You shiver.

He releases your hand, but pulls you even closer. His bloody mouth is pressed to your ear. You’re paralyzed, heart thudding, pulsing so hard now you can hear it.

“I’m a demon,” he murmurs, icy breath caressing your ear. And then without warning, he pulls aside your kimono and bites deep into your shoulder.

You gasp, a shaky broken thing. His fangs easily slice through your skin. Your blood pours into his mouth, and he moans.

He pulls away. “You taste so good…”

“Don’t eat me. Please!” you’re crying now, tears dripping down your face; from fear more than pain. You’ve heard stories of demons. You know what they do to people.

“Oh, no, darling. You misunderstand.” He clutches you close. He does it lightly, but you can feel he could crush you without a thought if he wanted. “You’re too intriguing to kill. As long as you keep your pretty mouth shut, I don’t have to do anything! I have plenty of other disciples to feed on. I never go hungry.”

So that’s why he has the cult. It’s like a farm; raising animals for food.

But as long as you’re not the one going to slaughter…

You sniffle. “Don’t eat my friend either…”

“OK, sweetheart. She can be safe as well, as long as she doesn’t get too nosy…”

You feel a rush of relief. You’ve never been more grateful for your friend’s naivete. It will keep her alive, now.

“But…what will you do with me?”

“Hmm…I want to keep you with me! You’re interesting. And life is dreadfully dull sometimes. I need something…someone special. To make existence less boring. And I think you could be that person.” He smiles at you. It feels more real now, less plastic. You could almost imagine you saw a flicker of real emotion in his eyes.

You’re exhausted. And you understand, a bit. Life is dull for you as well; often you wake up only to go through the motions of the day, with nothing to look forward to. Then you go back to bed, and repeat the cycle.

The interest you felt in Dōma, though sickeningly manic, obsessive, was a feeling you’d been craving for years. Finally, you felt something strongly again. Even when you were scared out of your mind, thinking you would be eaten… it was better than feeling numb.

“Okay,” you say. Your head drops onto his shoulder, hiding your face. “I’ll stay with you.”

He shivers, and his arms tighten around you. “Thank you, my darling.” His mouth returns to the sluggishly bleeding wound on your shoulder, licking up the blood like a cat does milk. It hurts, still, but you think you could get used to it. At least when you can feel his tongue soothing the ache.

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter Twelve

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Twelve: One Hell of a Doll

Summary: (Y/N) and Sebastian fight a puppet and confront a mysterious puppet master.

            Ciel, Sebastian, (Y/N), and Grell ran up the tower stairs after Pluto as he disappeared into the strange building. With any luck (which wasn’t much for them), Elizabeth would be found in the tower and be saved. They finally reached a door, and Sebastian opened it.

            The room held dollmaking tools and several abandoned pieces. Materials stood to the sides of the room, each labeled with “iron,” “steel,” “gold,” or other such things. The only colorful thing in the room drew everyone’s eyes. It was Elizabeth in her pink dress, sitting at the side of the room.

            “Lizzy,” said Ciel in worry, moving to her. No response. He took her by the shoulders. “Lizzy!”

            “It seems we’re too late,” said Grell casually.

            “No…” Ciel shook Elizabeth. “Lizzy! Lizzy!”

            Her eyes opened slowly. “Huh?”

            “Lizzy! Thank God!” said Ciel.

            “The ring…” said Elizabeth, staring at the new ring on Ciel’s finger. She smiled. “You liked it, right, Ciel?”

            The gift. (Y/N)’s eyes softened slightly. The poor girl had just been trying to make up for breaking the original. “Quite the present she had for you.”

            “How foolish. Why, for me…” Ciel trailed off.

            Suddenly, two forces pulled Elizabeth into the air by her arms. A moment later, a large axe was thrown into her arms.

            “Elizabeth!” cried Ciel.

            “No!” cried Elizabeth as whatever was moving her forced her to attack Ciel and swing the axe down at him.

            Sebastian grabbed Ciel and pulled him away, but Elizabeth kept coming for them.

            “Stop! Stop! Stop!” she cried.

            “(Y/N),” said Sebastian as he held Ciel and dodged.

            “Got her,” said (Y/N), moving in front and blocking the attack. Whatever force was controlling Elizabeth forced her further at (Y/N) as the demon held up the attack. “Grell, cut whatever’s controlling her movements.”

            “Hm, but I could get cut with that big axe,” sighed Grell.

            “Grell,” repeated (Y/N), and she glanced at the demon, sighing dramatically.

            “Grell,” said Sebastian, taking the reaper’s attention. He smiled at her. “Please?”

            “Are you two asking me for a favor?” cried Grell excitedly. “Well, then, perfect! When we kiss, then, it will be…with tongue!”

            “When we what?” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow incredulously. They were about to continue with something alone the lines of “I’ll bit your tongue off instead,” but Sebastian spoke.

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, “but I can tie cherry stems with my tongue.” Oh, he definitely knew what he was talking about.

            “Oh, yes!” Grell nearly flew from how much the image excited her.

            “Now that’s something even I didn’t know you were capable of,” said (Y/N). Inwardly, they were having a toned-down version of Grell’s reaction. Sebastian’s tongue? If (Y/N)’s thoughts had been hard to control before…

            Sebastian smirked. “Perhaps a demonstration at some point. A lesson for old time’s sake.”

            (Y/N)’s head snapped to him. It was rare for a demon to be caught off guard, but having Sebastian Michaelis of all demons say something that could be flirtatious? That would do it. (Y/N) furrowed their brow and looked away again. No, that was just Sebastian being himself.

            “To have a bigger weapon than I do when you’re nothing but a little girl…” Grell ran towards Elizabeth holding two pairs of scissors (What happened to her Death Scythe? wondered (Y/N)) “I can’t forgive that.”

            “Stop it, Grell!” cried Ciel, worried for Elizabeth.

            With two neat snips, Grell finished the job. Elizabeth crumpled to the ground, and Ciel was by her side in an instant.

            (Y/N) noticed what Grell had cut and picked it up. “Puppet string,” they said.

            “Only a Death Scythe’s edge could be this sharp,” said Grell proudly, brandishing her scissors. “How was it, Bassy, (Nickname)? I’m great, aren’t it? Praise me, praise me!”

            “You did alright,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            Sebastian was tempted to chuckle at just how nonchalant they were, just like a cat allowing just a moment of return of affection to a passerby. However, he remained silent on that account and instead looked at Grell, “Amazing, you are most skilled with a pair of scissors, aren’t you?”

            “Ah!” Grell preened at the praise of the demons. “It’s a pleasure!”

            “The puppet thread leads up…” (Y/N) gazed into the rafters of the tower. The same man from the mansion stood there.

            “I reasoned…” said the man slowly before waving his arms. Puppet thread snapped tight around Ciel, Sebastian, (Y/N), and Grell. “…that what I should use to make the doll this time is…”

            “Well, what are you made out of?” remarked Sebastian.

            “Huh?” The man considered as if that had never occurred to him. “What am I made out of?”

            Sebastian smirked. “Yes. From what I can see, it does not appear to be a very strong material.”

            “I reasoned that I was supposed to be human. However, lately, termites seem to be falling out of my ears,” said the man blandly.

            Sebastian kicked the axe to a standing position, and (Y/N) kicked it upward. It sliced into the man, and the bindings loosened. The man teetered on the rafters.

            “(Y/N),” said Sebastian, catching the axe.

            He extended a hand, and (Y/N) understood. They leapt up, took the axe, and Sebastian pushes them into a high jump. They swung at the butler, and he caught it between his hands. (Y/N) grinned and thrust down harder. The man fell from the rafters (coincidentally landing on Grell). The man’s head split open to reveal hay stuffing.

            “So he was a doll, too,” said Ciel, supporting Elizabeth.

            “Drocell Keins,” said Grell. “His soul was seized five years ago. However, for some reason, there was a reaction to his life-force.”

            “A fragment of a soul must have been used by someone,” said Sebastian darkly.

            “Someone who can manipulate souls?” (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. Reapers collected souls, demons ate souls, and angels…Actually, who knows what they did with souls, but (Y/N) knew they were one of the only three beings able to use souls in that way.

            “Ciel?” came a faint voice.

            “Elizabeth,” said Ciel in relief as she opened her eyes. “Let’s go back to the mansion.”

            “I want to have a birthday party for you,” said Elizabeth.

            Ciel furrowed his brow for a moment before his gaze softened. “Alright. Pleae celebrate for me.

            Elizabeth smiled before falling asleep from exhaustion once more.

            “Just relax and rest,” said Ciel. “Everything is—”

            “It’s not over yet,” said Drocell’s voice. The group watched as the strawman got shakily to his feet. “I reasoned that I must report to the Master.” He took small, faltering steps towards another door, hay falling from his head with every movement.

            “What’s with him?” said Grell. “He’s trying to serve his master even when he’s all messed up like that?”

            “I understand him,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “After all, I am one hell of a butler.”

            “Master…” Drocell pushed open the door before collapsing, likely completely dead this time.

            Ciel leaned Elizabeth carefully against a wall before heading into the new room with the rest of the group. (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed as they took in the sight before them. An ornate chair sat facing a window, and the arm of a figure, the Master, could be seen resting upon it. In front of the chair, Pluto sat curled up, obedient.

            “Pluto!” said Ciel sharply. Pluto ignored Ciel and licked the Master’s hand. “Why is he being so friendly?”

            (Y/N)’s eyes were catlike slits. The only person Pluto had ever been friendly around like that was Angela. But it wasn’t Angela near them. There was something…different about the Master.

            “I do apologize,” said the Master. “My butler was so incompetent he couldn’t even offer a proper welcome.”

            “So, you’re the culprit,” said Ciel. “Why are you turning young girls into dolls?”

            “Flowers, eras, and people…” began the Master. “Beauty is a fleeting thing. Dollmaking is a blessed art that leaves behind the most beautiful and perfect things in this world.”

            “What bad taste,” remarked Grell, and (Y/N) was inclined to agree.

            “Why were you targeting me?” demanded Ciel. He pulled the gold ring off his finger. “I have no intention of becoming one of your precious dolls.” He threw it at the back of the chair in a clear declaration.

            “Please limit your insolence!” said the Master.

            “What?” questioned Ciel.

            “My butler’s head was made of straw,” said the Master. “I cannot fathom why he wanted you. Ciel Phantomhive, you have carried the fate of death since your birth. That body of yours is already unclean.”

            Ciel’s eyes widened, and he stepped backwards. “How do you know about that?” he demanded.

            “I cannot forgive the fact that something like you exists in this world, unclean, unwanted, and impure,” said the Master. “Almost as filthy as one who would choose impurity. (Y/N) is the name now, correct? Still as unclean as ever, standing there having chosen to be of the filth. Being cleansed would give you a chance at purity.”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes, which flashed fuchsia. “The Heavens failed to watch over me. The darkness gave me strength. I don’t regret a thing. Your purity means nothing to me.”

            Sebastian would smirk proudly at their words, but the Master’s speech to them rubbed him the wrong way, so his eyes remained slits. He didn’t like the Master’s focus on Ciel and (Y/N). They were his, in one way or another.

            “Get rid of the unclean,” said the Master, his chair shaking as his words rose in fervor. “Get rid of the unwanted and the impure! Get rid of it! Get rid of it!”

            “Stop that this instant!” demanded Ciel, running around to the front of the chair. His eyes widened. It was just a scarecrow.

            Sebastian, Grell, and (Y/N) joined him, narrowing their eyes. In the scarecrow’s lap, a tiny puppet stood. Grell jumped and hid behind (Y/N) and Sebastian. The tiny puppet’s mouth split open to reveal sharp teeth as it cackled maniacally. It jumped from the scarecrow’s lap and ran out of the room.

            “Sebastian, catch it!” said Ciel.

            “The puppeteer is not in the vicinity,” said (Y/N).

            “There are unseen strings attached all around here. They are far from pleasant,” said Sebastian.

            Ciel glared out the door. All he wanted was to run after the doll, but for now, the puppeteer would remain a mystery.

l

            (Y/N) calmly washed the dishes after Ciel’s birthday party. The ring the Master had given him had appeared in the mansion, which was concerning, but there was nothing they could do at the moment, so they just continued working.

            “Hello, Sebastian,” they said, sensing him in the doorway.

            “(Y/N),” said Sebastian, stepping up beside them. He took the plate from their hands and put it down.

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as they looked at him. “What is it?”

            “The…‘Master.’ He knew you,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) nodded. “Apparently.”

            “I believe he has plans for the Young Master and you,” said Sebastian darkly.

            “You worry about Ciel, and I’ll worry about myself.” (Y/N) smirked. “I’m a demon, after all. I’m quite capable.”

            Sebastian stepped closer, his gaze somber. “He knew your past. That suggests he’s a threat.”

            (Y/N) pursed their lips. “I’ve never hidden the fact I had a human life.”

            “And yet he seemed to know details. Even I do not know about your human life,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) scoffed. “The ‘Master’ barely knew anything.”

            “He knew something,” said Sebastian. “What is it?”

            “Nothing that can affect me now, that’s the whole point,” said (Y/N).

            “(Y/N),” said Sebastian sharply, his hand around them on the sink. “Tell me.” I can’t defend them from the Master if I do not know what he is planning. Defend them? Sebastian started. When had he started thinking like that? Had it really gone from attraction to protection so quickly?

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They had kept this information private for centuries. Their human life had been left behind when they became a demon. They disliked it having anything to do with their present.

            But it was Sebastian. It was Sebastian asking them. It was Sebastian that seemed concerned for them, showing it in a very Sebastian-way.

            (Y/N)’s stomach twisted, and they sighed. If there was a single being in the world they could trust at all to not use anything in their past against them, it was Sebastian.

            “The Master was referring to my death,” said (Y/N). Their head tilted back, and they stared at the ceiling as their memories returned to them. “When I was dying, I was on the edge of Heaven and Hell. If I had gone peacefully, I likely would have gone to heaven.” Their eyes darkened, and their head dropped to make eye contact with Sebastian. “But I didn’t. With my final breaths I cursed the people around me, wished death and destruction on them. I earned Hell.

            “That’s what the Master referenced,” said (Y/N). “I chose Hell. And I have no shame or guilt over my actions.”

            Sebastian had thought they couldn’t get more interesting, but he was wrong. (Y/N) had just become more attractive to him for having chosen Hell. Not many mortals had the bravery or stubborn will to do so.

            “I would not have you feel any shame. Not when you are a demon of this caliber,” said Sebastian. He took a moment to observe (Y/N)’s minute twitches, the way their mouth turned slightly upwards at the satisfactory praise but their brows furrowed at his openness, and he smirked inwardly before straightened and stepping back.

            “Do you think the Master can really do anything with that information?” asked (Y/N), crossing their arms and narrowing their eyes. They didn’t like the idea of anyone trying to make them feel vulnerable. They had fought for millennia to prove their strength.

            “I’m not sure,” admitted Sebastian, eyes narrowed in frustration. “But he’s clearly planning something.”

            “Well, Ciel is the more vulnerable, so I’d worry about him,” said (Y/N). They turned around and put away the plate they’d been washing. They stepped past Sebastian to the door. Their eyes flashed fuchsia. “I can handle whatever this Master tries. After all, you taught me.” They left the room.

            He had. And that’s why Sebastian had gotten attached. That’s why he was going to keep the Master from getting closer to Ciel or (Y/N).

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