#dollcraft

[materassassino]

So, one of my weirder current sidequests is making the Magic Carpet from Aladdin, because there isn't one for sale in existence anywhere.

I printed the pattern onto printable cotton, and sewed the two pieces together with the tassels on the inside, like a bog standard cushion cover. I then sewed pipe cleaners around the edge because since Carpet is sentient, he should at least be vaguely posable. So now my dilemma is:

Do I use embroidery thread to cover up the pipe cleaners, or sandwich the pipe cleaners in between folded gold ribbon and sew it down?

[gingerlolaminiaturecrafts]

One Sixth Scale Barbie Dollhouse Fireplace MAKEOVER

[jagosarts]

This was my second? doll I crafted, took me a long time to get her the way I wanted her to look. Her name is Mycelia Redcap, she is a mother mushroom and queen of the hivemind. <3

I posted more photos of her on my doll crafts blog on instagram!

[damedarcy]

Add #unique #ambiance to any room with these framed #surrealist #aliceinwonderland and #polkadot #dollcrafting #framed #paintings! https://etsy.me/3LYXiJL Payment plans available, and price negotiable. Just message me at the @damedarcy #etsy messenger. Shipping Included ❤️ #cottagecore #sweetlolita #haunted #dollhouse #yumikawaii #victorianstyle https://www.instagram.com/p/CqWAMqMOYop/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[patchworkcuddlebug]

A Parasite

Norae was always... resistant to having a doll. Her covenmates tell her about theirs like they're little slave-things, always wandering around your house and doing things you should be doing on your own. It's creepy, and (she would never say this out loud) enabling laziness.

But as her power grows, so does her manor. She begins noticing hallways stretching out longer than they once did, with protrusions shaped like doorknobs emerging from the walls. There's already a set of stairs leading uselessly into the ceiling, no doubt where the second story will begin to grow.

The effort she put into keeping things in order used to be paltry for a witch as powerful as her, but she's starting to get annoyed by the distractions. She is growing tired of pruning new furniture like weeds.

She knows nothing of clockwork, and she never developed her skills in magical dollcraft for obvious reasons. But she will sometimes catch sight of a stray, trying to find purpose in picking the wild berries just beyond her yard. She wonders if she'll be helpful enough, before quietly correcting herself and wondering if it will be helpful enough.

She told her coven how she was thinking about leaving a sort of trap for it, a cup of tea under a cardboard box held up with a stick, only half serious. Regardless, they told her that dolls are much more trusting and docile than she was assuming, and that she simply needed to approach and talk to it.

She waited with a book, just on the edges of her property. The wide brim of her hat helped block the glare of the sun as she'd occasionally look off through the trees. Soon, it came walking past her unceremoniously, seeming as if it's trying to ignore her. It's walking to the bush. There's already a few ripe berries piled neatly in its hand.

It was made with porcelain, with a more tattered version of the maid dress they all seem to wear, walking with just as much rigidity and poise. But this is the first doll she's seen with a wind-up key. It slowly turned just a few degrees for every moment that passed. She could see a little rope tied to one of the sides, presumably so that one could wind it on her own.

"Excuse me? ...Doll?" Just as she starts speaking, it perks up, looking ready to leap into action. "Y... yes, Miss?" Its voice is timid, but eager.

"Would you like to, uh..." She hesitates for a moment, feeling ridiculous. This is the first time she's had to say something like this out loud. "Belong to me? I have tea."

It gasps. "Yes! Oh, yes, thank you Miss!" She runs up to the witch as if to give her a hug, only to skitter to a last-second stop just in front of her and give a polite bow, with proper curtsy.

"Right. Um, follow me, then." She closes her book and begins walking back to her door, her movements awkward as the doll followed close behind. She can't stop looking back at it, at its bizarrely serene face and excited steps. "So, do you have a name?"

"This one's old witch called it Lullaby, Miss!" It seems so happy to say.

"That's... still your name then, I think."

"Yay! Thank you Miss!"

. . . . .

Colloquially, the word "doll" is often used to describe any construct that obeys a witch, with considerable variation thereupon. Perhaps the most infamous among these variants in classification is the combat doll. These ones can often be identified by their more metallic exterior, such that they can easily be confused for androids at first glance, but there also exists combat dolls that

"Excuse this one, Miss?" the thing knocks at the door to the witch's study. It lingers in the doorway, not wanting to intrude further.

Norae tries to stifle a sigh of annoyance as she turns away from her book. "Yes, Lullaby?" She just noticed that her its hair just a little dishevelled from working, but it's not nearly as matted and gnarled as it was earlier today. She's glad it looks so much more... healthy.

"This one has finished sweeping the first floor, Miss!" The doll smiled, clearly proud of herself. The witch is caught in her own head for only a moment, ruminating on owning someone... something so close to a human. "What would you like it to do next?"

"You..." it takes her a moment to stifle her shock. She's read enough to know that such a task is to be expected from dolls, but it still seemed to work so hard so fast. "Then you've completed your chores. Treat yourself to some tea." She tells it matter-of-factly and turns back to her book, trying to match the professionalism of her literature.

"But, Miss!" The doll says. Norae turns back, and sees the doll has a very human, very concerned look. "This one has barely worked today! Would you like it to scrub the floors as well? Or organize your bookshelf? It can cook for you, Miss!"

"Hey, calm down, it's alright." The doll's owner tries to sound reassuring, as one would to a friend. "I don't know how your last witch did it, but I don't want to overwork you. Do you like to read? I have a library."

The doll tried to swallow its apprehensive look. "This one will read for you, Miss." It nods dutifully and runs along.

That... went well, she thinks. She understands that dolls are... eager, to a certain degree, but she's sincere about not wanting to exhaust the poor girl thing. She also thinks about her own autonomy, and how listless she'd feel if left without her own chores.

. . . . .

Norae lets out a bored sigh as she watched the vegetables sizzle in their pan. She tries to stir them around, spreading them evenly in the oil, but it's more to entertain herself than to properly cook.

She hears Lullaby quickly, yet still with a polite reservation, hurry up the stairs.

"Miss!" It calls out, drowning out its footsteps before it turns the corner. As it emerges into the kitchen, it looks... mortified. "It's so sorry, let this one, good dolls should-"

"Lullaby, it's okay!" She holds the frying pan up, higher than the doll can reach. "You don't have to do everything for me just because you're a doll."

"But, Miss, this one wants to!" It looks desperate and pleading. "Please, Miss, you've been so nice, and this-"

"Hey, calm down, there's no need for that." Norae tries to sound reassuring. She sets the pan down and turns to give Lullaby her full attention, kneeling to match her its eye level and placing a hand on its shoulder. "I know you want to help, but I enjoy being able to take care of myself, too. You already do plenty, and you should be proud of that."

The doll trembles, only as much as its docility will allow. "Yes Miss, Thank you Miss." After a quick bow, it gets out of Miss's way, leaving her to return to her monotonous stove-watching.

Lullaby takes a seat on Miss's couch. eyes forward and hands on its lap. It's so comfortable, the soft cushioning much more enveloping that the stumps it was used to sitting on. It tries to find a place to rest its eyes. On Miss's roaring fire, magically permeating a tender warmth through the room? On the door to the maid's quarters, where Miss had cleaned it and told it all it had to know? On Miss's beautiful and intricate grandfather clock, which it is letting collect a thin layer of dust?

It shouldn't cry. Miss is being nice, after all.

. . . . .

The doll shakes itself from a stupor. It wasn't still; there was no comfort in its emptiness, just effortful restraint fading into a half-present miasma.

Norae gestures for it to face away, gently guiding its shoulders to face where she sat on the couch. "Lean forward, please."

"It's okay, Miss." The doll sounded groggy, words tumbling heavily out of its mouth. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

The witch leaned to the side, showing the sympathetic look she had on her face. "Why wouldn't I wind you up? It's no trouble at all, and... I can't just let you pass out."

Lullaby slowly, heavily, shook its head. It wanted to be polite, to word itself delicately and reserve itself, but its clockwork was moving too slowly to stop it before it spoke. "No, please. It's a bother. This one doesn't do enough, it's not worth it."

Miss places a hand on its shoulder. "Oh, Lullaby, no, that's not true at all. You do just as much as you need to."

"It's not enough." The doll rested its elbows on its knees, leaning forward and cupping its face in its hands. "Miss is so nice, and this one just... takes it all in without giving enough back. It feels so useless, and pathetic, and... i-it just wants to be helpful." Its voice falters just at the end, hitching into a repressed sob.

Norae felt a pang in her heart that deepened with every word. Of course, she's been such an idiot. She feels like a bum when she doesn't keep herself busy, how would a being purpose-made to be helpful feel? It finally dawns on her, what the extent of a doll's inhumanity means.

"I'm so sorry, I... had no idea you felt that way." There's a sincere sorrow in her voice, the doll hearing Miss's confidence drop for the first time. "I never meant to hurt you, I just didn't want to be too hard on you."

She placed a hand on her doll's back, careful to leave room for its key to turn. "From now on, you get to do whatever you like. Cooking, cleaning, anything. I might still make you take some breaks so I can do something myself, but I'll never leave you with nothing to do."

Lullaby slowly, hopefully, lifts its head to look at Miss. "This one doesn't want to make you do anything you don't want, Miss, it can-"

"Lullaby, if you do everything you can to never feel like this again, you'll make me the happiest witch in the world." She put on a reassuring smile.

Norae didn't have time to see the grin widening on her doll's face before it latched on for a hug. All it could say was thank you as its tears left wet marks on the witch's dress.

"I'm just happy that you're happy." Miss hugged back, making the doll feel more loved than it could remember. "Now let's get you wound up, you've got some dishes to do."

[dendrobium-writes]

Reading

A Doll tends to its daily chores, sweeping, dusting, maintaining its Witch’s home. Its sisters were also tending to their duties, but this? This was its area of the cottage. The eastern hallway, where the study, workshop, and lab are all located.

A ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign had been hanging on the door to the study for quite some time. Normally, this wouldn’t be of any consequence. Her Witch was simply busy, and didn’t want to be disturbed. However, the sign had been hanging there since 8:30 in the morning! Over ten hours! She missed lunch, evening tea, and dinner. And in response to calls for her attention, simply reiterated that she was not to be disturbed unless it was urgent.

She must be incredibly busy. What could she possibly be doing? Research for an especially important project? Brushing up on the fundamentals of her craft? Perhaps reading up on dollcrafting techniques or magical theory?

These thoughts and questions gave it much to ponder as it tended to its chores. Of course, the Doll was happy to just be helpful, but having something to speculate on made its work much more enjoyable, beyond the simple fact that it was productive.

Enjoyment and productivity are two sides of the same coin, after all!

The time is now 9:00 in the evening. The Doll is making its final rounds through the eastern corridor before returning to its quarters for the evening, when suddenly the doorknob on the study turns! The Doll stops in its tracks and turns to observe...

The door creaks open, and out steps the Witch of the manor. Barely dressed, disheveled, and looking as if she had just woken up.

“Good evening, Miss!” The Doll curtsies, giving an enthusiastic greeting. The Witch jumps back with fright before regaining her composure. “Y-yes, good evening Doll.” She responds, her face reddening with embarassment.

“You must be hungry. You have not left your study for over twelve hours! Would you like something prepared?” The Witch smiles and shakes her head. “No, Doll. I’m fine. I brought plenty of snacks in with me.” The Doll bows. “May this one inquire as to what it is you have been doing all day?” At that, the Witch’s embarrassed look returns. “Oh, just... Reading.” “Reading?” The Doll repeats back. “You must have been conducting important research!” It chirps.

“Truthfully, I wasn’t doing anything of the sort. I was reading fiction. Stories... I feel I’ve wasted the whole day.” She says, looking down at the floor.

The Doll tilts its head. “Wasted? Were you not enjoying yourself?”

The Witch looks back up, meeting the curious gaze of her Doll. “Well yes, I was. But it--” “Then it was no waste!” The Doll cuts her off.

The Witch stands in stunned silence for a moment, as her Doll smiles innocently up at her.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She says with a smile, patting the Doll on its head.

[frostgears]

the space between cracked and broken

the reclusive doll knows far more about repair dollcraft than any other doll you've ever met.

"how did you learn all this?" you ask, pulling an opaque stocking up over a formerly shattered shin. if you look very closely, you might see the cracks, but that's better than you ever managed with just epoxy and your own fingers.

she takes a long sip of the pu-erh you brought her. (hard to get. you couldn't run from loss prevention, so you had to be perfect on the first try.) finally she says, "you really should try this."

it smells better than anything you've had this month, but you're paying her with the stuff, and you don't want to cut into her profits.

"thank you, but this doll drinks greens, mostly."

she shrugs. "your loss. so. i can tell you two stories… up to you what you want to believe."

the reclusive doll continues, "one is about a doll who figured dollcraft out by hard work. she can patch and sand and re-charm you like this, because a hundred other dolls came to her first, and got the best she could do for them then… and maybe a hundred dolls from now, she'll be even better; if you'd broken six months from now, there wouldn't even be a mark, who knows."

you notice that the china cup from which she's sipping tea has a thin crack. you wouldn't have noticed, but one of the roses only has three-quarters of a petal.

"and the other?"

"perhaps," she says, "she used to be a good doll, a real proper polite witch-toy. maybe the witch even had her help build new dolls, taught her a thing or two, just so the witch wouldn't have to do the boring parts, and what she can do now, that's just what she remembers. a few scraps from the witch's table, turned to mending instead of making."

you hear a very faint clatter, notice a judder in her hands that can't have been there earlier in the afternoon when her careful fingers were inside you. the teacup clattering ever so faintly against the saucer. only another doll would notice.

"that tea does smell quite good," you say. "perhaps just a sip?"

"oh, not a problem, let me pour you a fresh cup…" and her movements return to their normal grace.

old habits die hard, you suppose. if this was your place — if you had a place, hah, more like, if there was a place for you — you'd want to serve a guest too. so it goes.

it really is very good tea. □

[thimbledoll]

The Dressing Doll - Interview with the Coven

This story is a continuation. Click here to view the previous entry. Click here to view the first entry.

Context: This story was submitted as part of #EmptyOctober's prompt for day 30, "Coven."

"So it's my understanding that you wish to join our coven, Mister Alist—"

"Miss. Alice," the applicant firmly interrupted.

"Ah, right! Miss Alice…" the coven leader repeated, letting the name roll over her tongue experimentally.

Between her close-cropped silver hair and the custom-tailored suit she wore, the elder witch had the air of a woman trying to keep her finger on society's pulse. Her one bit of traditional adornment was the hat, the symbol of her sisterhood, that she hung from her chair.

Her office in general exuded professional authority. It was covered in more awards and accolades than most witches could ever hope to achieve; Ink 500's top CEWs, multiple publications in Magick, even a photograph of her hobnobbing with the Agatha Harkness.

In one corner, her smiling face reflected back at them from behind the glass frame of a rainbow-splattered New Salem cover page on which she proudly featured. "Duvessa Cross Speaks Out! The Importance of Coven Inclusivity and Intersectionality," it boldly proclaimed.

"Gosh, I'm sorry about that," the real Duvessa said, attempting to start over. "That's so hard to get right, you know? Especially looking at your history here." She held aloft a ream of parchment; the resume Alice had sent in as part of her interview.

"Ah yeah… I guess there are some… standouts there," Alice admitted, trying not to show her embarrassment.

"I'll say! A letter of recommendation from the dean of the Academiae ad Maleficum himself? Most impressive. Those are not easy to come by. He's quite the demanding sort."

"You… don't know the half of it," Alice responded, laughing uncomfortably. "He was my direct mentor before he was granted the deanship. He could be… quite exacting…"

"Truly! But such a fine establishment for a young warlock like yourself to come up in."

"Witch."

"What?"

Mustering what waning patience she had, Alice explained, "It's a fine establishment for a young witch. You said warlock."

"Oh, I suppose I did. But it is an all-boy's school, so you were a warlock at the time. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, but… nevermind…"

"That does segue rather conveniently though. Tell me, when did you first feel Lilith's call drawing you to the witch's art?" Duvessa inquired. "That must have been quite the thing to experience given your… circumstances. I can't imagine it myself."

"I mean, it's only now that I realize I'd been hearing it all my life. I always just shrugged it off, thinking it was something all…" Alice paused, tensing before continuing, "…warlocks heard but… she never stopped calling."

"And yet it's taken you this long to decide to answer?" The coven leader's tone betrayed more than a hint of disbelief. "You must admit, it's a bit late for a... career change... at your age. Is it not?"

Ignoring the slight, Alice responded, "I suppose, however there are resources your prestigious sisterhood possesses that I would draw on to further a new direction in my craft. As you know, the Academy has precious little aid to offer one investigating the mysteries of Dollcraft"

"Yes… well… I must admit, what caught my eye about you was not a novice Maker seeking my sisters' secrets." Duvessa's countenance took on a hungry, predatory glare. "You bring knowledge, experience, and talent in Magicks we sorely lack here; Academy Magicks."

"I'm… I'm trying to leave those behind," Alice stammered, trying to bring the conversation back on track. This interview was not going anywhere close to how she had hoped. "I said as such in my application. They are… ill-suited to both my current craft and my current goals."

"Yes. Yes. Your 'experiments.'" The elder witch didn't even bother to hide her disdain. "What I'm proposing is far grander though. An exchange of secrets. Your Academy learning for our coven's knowledge. It's a fair trade."

"It was my understanding that all is shared freely within the sisterhood," Alice answered. "'To not share with one's sisters is a betrayal of Lilith's gift.' Those were your words according to one interview. That hardly seems to square with the offer you're extending me."

"Yes, well, that's for our… fully-fledged sisters," Duvessa said, bemusedly. "I'm not entirely sure that one of your talents is quite the right fit for that. You understand, don't you? Regardless, we could both stand to benefit a great deal from each other. Come. Work with me."

"No… No, Miss Crosse, I'm afraid this interview is over."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. My door is always open to one of your… unique qualifications, Miste—Miss Alice. Should you ever change your mind."

"Don't count on it," Alice spat back.

_______________________________________

Elsewhere, two dolls were busying themselves, seemingly attempting to burrow a channel in the flooring of their Maker's manse as they paced anxiously back and forth.

"She's going to hate it," said Natrium.

"It's ugly," said Celestine.

"This is a terrible plan."

"The worst."

"It was that one's bright idea!" shouted one.

"That one agreed to it though!" retorted the other.

The two were about to descend into mutual awawas when suddenly the front door burst open, their Mistress silhouetted in the doorframe, the air around her shimmering with curses.

"Stupid fricking covens…" The entryway rug completely unwove itself. "Stupid academies…" The door shut itself with a cacophonous slam. "Stupid supposed sisterhood…" A nearby vase shattered. "Arrrrrgh!!" Alice roared as she crossed the threshold.

The two dolls got straight to work, pulling off Alice's cloak and boots and guiding her to her favorite seat without interrupting a single step. A fresh pot of tea was already brewed and steeping, though they both worried that chai wouldnt be strong enough for the mood she was in

"Six times now! Six! How many more of these humiliating interviews am I going to have to sit through for even one to take me seriously?!" Alice cried out rhetorically.

Pouring a cup of tea from the pot, Celestine cautiously asked, "So… they didn't give Miss her Big Hat?"

"No, no my dear doll, they did not. Those are for 'fully-fledged sisters,'" Alice mocked.

"This one is sorry, Miss," Natrium apologized faultlessly. "You deserve your Big Hat."

Dejection filled Alice's voice as she sighed, "In due time… I'll just have to… apply elsewhere."

The two dolls saw their opportunity.

"If it please you, Miss…"

"…these ones had a thought."

"That's a dangerous thing for dolls to be having," Alice mused, perking up slightly, despite the simultaneous spike in anxiety. "What was your thought?"

"Well, we heard once…"

"…that sometimes if you can't make something on your own…"

"…store-bought is fine."

"So we thought…"

"…'Why not the reverse?'"

"If they won't give you your Big Hat…"

"…then making your own is fine, right?"

From behind their backs, the two dolls pulled out the most comically oversized witch's hat she had ever seen. It was ostentatious. It was gaudy. It would certainly be the Biggest Hat in any room. Alice would have to figure out by what Magicks they hid it behind their backs later.

It was also far beyond their sewing capabilities, she noted.

"You… how did you… this is… where did you get this?" Alice stammered.

"Well, she told us not to say…"

"…but Satin stitched it."

"It was this one's idea though!"

"Nuh-uh! It was this one's!"

"Satin made it…?" Alice asked, interrupting the two before they got too into it.

"Uh-huh! She said it was…"

"…'for a new sisterhood.'"

"Whatever that means."

Hearing those words, it was all Alice could do to not drop the tea cup she'd been handed. Placing it down, gently as could be, she accepted the hat from the two dolls, eliciting the widest smiles she'd ever seen them wear.

Placing it atop her head and taking a moment to adjust the overly wide brim, Alice declared, "Yes. You're absolutely right. Making your own is fine. Now come, you two," she said, grabbing her dolls by the hand, "We have a lot of work ahead of us."

End 🧵

(Can't believe I forgot to post this one here... Well, with that I believe my entire archive is here now, so that's nice. Now hopefully someday I'll actually finish one of the six fricking drafts I have sitting around. All I seem to do lately is start new ones though... Oh well. Such is the way of things.)

[roselyn-ravenblade]

Did you have a favorite toy as a kid? Do you still have it? If not, what happened to it? Have you ever considered trying to find it, or one just like it?

The Gilnean doll had been the most expensive toy Rose had ever managed to own as a girl, only after a year's worth of pining for it, and tending to every lay duty at the chapel as needed (no trade offs).

She was all of 14 years when she finally received it on Winter's Veil, and her Uncle had told her that she was perhaps getting a little too old for dolls (what lady was too old for dolls!?) and she remembered tearing into the packaging and tearing up simply at the sight of the familiar packaging highlighting the emblem of a the particular dollmaker, of who's window she'd stared at every night to gawk upon the glorious creations. She could hardly remember the name of the dollcrafter or business now, but they had done marvelous work in Old Gilneas, all those years ago.

It was an ostentatiously flamboyant dress on that porcelain doll that she absolutely loved, some piece of example of pure elegance she was much too frumpy to ever pull off in the same way. She remembered herself drawing it endlessly, and with it she got in her practice on the structure of feminine faces to a memorized art, she thought. She thanked that gorgeous doll for the many sessions locked in her room, spent scribbling away.

The doll had been lost many years ago to a crumbled Dalaran like most other things of hers, but she had never again really craved another like it, or owning any porcelain doll at all, really. As she grew from the girl she was, the fantasy for dolls drained for her through the years. They seemed unrealistic or uncanny perceptions of beauty that were unfair, and at times unsettling, Beauty was in the raw wild, found in unconventional ways and places. Dolls were just a bit creepy. Their eyes followed you everywhere you went and expressed nothing.

She'd thought her uncle would be proud of her now, finally outgrowing such things.

{ @themadamelioness }

[muzzlekiss]

show-piece and tool; a comparative study of two dolls

In the Sanitarium for Convalescent Dolls, there are two dolls set apart from the others. They are of the House, not of the convalescents, and unlike the other staff they have never been convalescents. The Witch made them, uncountable years ago, when she was still new to the art of dollcraft, and their names are Fumitory and Goldenseal. 

Fumitory is perfect. It was not always perfect, of course; even a Witch seldom does something correctly the very first time. Piece by porcelain piece, iteration upon iteration, it has been refined into what it stands as now: a masterpiece of its mistress’ art. Its proportions are exquisite, tall for a doll, the better to heighten the cervine elegance of its limbs. Its joints glide in their housings with such velvet silence that, if it were not for the intricate flourishes of overglaze upon its porcelain, the uninitiated might mistake it for a human girl; a dancer, perhaps, for who else carries their body in such weightless poise? Its hair is dark and luxuriant, its eyes tranquil yet alert, its mind still and clear, and it possesses many pleasing talents in addition to its impeccable service.  It plays the piano exquisitely, it sings, it writes, it plays chess, it has mastered every form of tea ceremony available, each skill richly cultivated by tens of years of study and practice. Its duties, as administrator of the Sanitarium and personal attendant to the Witch, are many, and it is equal to each in turn.

But let’s not talk any more about Fumitory. We aren’t convalescent dolls, excitedly trading stories of their eldest sister’s talent and Stillness, hoping to be just like it when the mending is done. Let’s move on to Goldenseal, a very different kind of specimen. 

Like Fumitory, Goldenseal is the product of inexperience - the very second doll, in fact, that its Witch ever made. However, while Goldenseal too has been a continual project over the years, one would hardly call the process refinement. Its personality is blunt and contrary, its mannerisms stiff and prone to tic, and its sense of humour a touch cruel - altogether lacking in the traditional virtues of a good doll. It doesn’t even possess the basic grace to speak in the dollish manner, a habit that even the greenest, most inexperienced doll ought to possess as a simple facet of its nature. The modifications its mistress has made touch not upon its personality, but upon its body; why the Witch hasn’t clipped its sharp tongue or taught it to curtsy properly, nobody can say. Perhaps Goldenseal’s  personality is completely unsalvageable, and it is simply of sufficient sentimental value that its Witch can’t bear to replace it. 

Ah, but that body - a thing of wonders, a virtuoso piece. In all the world, there is not another doll like Goldenseal. An acquired taste, one might admit; there is little to please the eye unless one holds a proper appreciation for the sere, aseptic elegance of function, and such forms of beauty are seldom found in dolls. Goldenseal’s physiology is a cabinet of miracles, integrated throughout with the hinged and puppet-strung tools of its trade, porcelain and thread and silver and brass all in clicking, ticking symphony.

 And it’s that strange trade that delivers the final blow to any remaining sense of propriety: Goldenseal is a doll-maker. 

Dolls aren’t supposed to know such things, the convalescents whisper in corners and under the stairs. It’s not right, it’s not right, the secrets that make them tick are witchly things, far beyond what mere dolls ough to be trusted with. But the Sanitarium is host to dolls with a cornucopia of maladies: stress-fractures, shivers, nightmares, stuck joints, curses, and it is Goldenseal’s knowledge of the doll-making art  that permits it to serve its Witch. Surgeon, general practitioner, physical therapist; though it quite lacks a bedside manner and though its patients are all rather afraid of it, it is as equal to its duties as Fumitory to hers. 

Rumours abound: that Fumitory’s perfection is not the work of the Witch’s hand, but Goldenseal’s; that Goldenseal was made from a witch, as terrible punishment, and that’s why she’s so queer; that bad dolls, too sick to be fixed, are given to Goldenseal and disassembled for her collection of pretty parts. (The collection, at least, is real; Goldenseal adores glass eyes, and slots a different mismatched pair into its head every morning.) The truth, however, is very simple: many years ago the Witch gave both of her creations the pick of how they would be changed, and these are the shapes into which they wished to be carved, one the show-piece, the other the tool. 

[pepitas-de-chocolate]

Que guapo va a estar con su jersey! 😍😍 pepitasdechocolate.etsy.com www.youtube.com/@Pepitas_de_chocolate #doll #muñeca #diy #craft #hechoamano #handmade #handmadedoll #pepitasdechocolate #fiberdoll #toy #muñecahechaamano #muñecadecoleccionista #fabricdoll #dollcollector #muñecasoft #cottondoll #waldorfdoll #muñecarusa #sewing #coser #tela #muñecadetela #sewingfordoll #cute #dollartistry #dollmaker #clothdoll #dollstagram #instadoll #dollcraft (en Palma De Mallorca, Spain) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpTHOKuI0eQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gingerlolaminiaturecrafts]

One Sixth Scale Bedroom DIORAMA Part two

[xbookinstatube]

Design a doll from a glove

Credits: Craft Gallery

#kidcraft

#dollcraft

#craftidea

#funcraft

[mygoogledrivescaresme]

I found some more beautiful clown dolls at a local thrift store today. I think they're made by the same company that made Oliver-Kingstate the Dollcrafter. The one on the left came with a tag that named him Oscar, so now the theme for my clowns is that all kf their names will start with an O. I haven't come up with a name for the blue boy on the left yet, so if anyone thinks of one, leave a comment or something.

Bonus pic with their little sister

[lillisprit]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Dollcraft Toys Realistic Sitting Dalmatian 10" Plush Dog Panting Tongue.

[dendrobium-writes]

Do dolls pass the mirror test

In normal circumstances, yes! However, sometimes they do not! In this case, maintenance is required! Please take any Dolls who cannot pass the mirror test to a Dollcrafter Witch immediately!